


Circles

by CarbonFootprint



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Cute, Figure Skater!Marco, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Hiatus, Hockey, Hockey Player! Jean, Homophobia, Ice Skating, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, M/M, More relationship tags possible, More tags to be added, Rated M for language and possible explicit content later, Teenage Dorks, VERY SLOW UPDATES BUT I WILL FINISH THIS EVENTUALLY, background eremin, background ships are practically non-existent, background springles, background yumikuri, figure skating
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-02-16
Updated: 2015-02-02
Packaged: 2018-01-12 18:08:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 28,481
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1194579
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CarbonFootprint/pseuds/CarbonFootprint
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jean Kirschstein has been playing hockey pretty much his entire life to an extent that he lives and breathes the sport. When he gets onto a new hockey team at a different rink, he meets Marco Bodt, a figure skater that immediately captures his attention. Marco possesses a kind of grace that Jean never experienced first hand, and he's immediately drawn to the other teen.</p><p>Circles is a story about awkward first relationships, being true to oneself, and finding the courage to do something phenomenal through the help, influence, and love of someone else.. And, of course, figure skating.</p><p>(I WON'T BE UPDATING THIS ANYMORE. I don't have the heart to delete it right now but SNK is history for me. Sorry to anyone who liked this!)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! I've been planning this AU for quite a while and I am very excited to write it. I've never written for SNK before so I am trying to get a hang of the characters' personalities so I can write them well. 
> 
> Thanks for reading! If you see any typos, please don't hesitate in telling me! I doubled checked, but we all make mistakes! ^w^;

The cold November wind nipped at Jean’s nose and cheeks as he ran down the sidewalk, his bag of gear whacking his side in a pattern that was starting to get annoying, though the only thing he was focused on right now was how late he was for practice. He had gotten onto the regional hockey team, a step up from the team at school, after trying out in September, though Jean would never claim it had been a surprise when he got the news. Up until now, practices had been at the rink in his neighborhood, but as most of them team went to the high school across the city, they had chosen to have practice at the other rink instead.

He had been counting on taking the car to eliminate the factors of cold and, more importantly, being late, but his mom had told him last minute that she needed the car. It was only their fourth official practice, and Jean didn’t want to seem like the loser who showed up late, though it seemed at the rate he was going that the impression was inevitable.

As the rink came into view, he looked down at his watch, cursing under his breath when he saw it was already 7:10. The other guys were probably already on the ice by now. He picked up the pace even more, practically throwing the doors to the rink open and rushing inside, happy to be out of the cold, but more worried about being scolded for his tardiness. He rushed by the glass viewing area on the way to the stairs to the locker rooms only to stop short.

The rink was empty aside for one guy, and he most certainly wasn’t on any hockey team. Hell, the nets weren’t even in place yet.

“What the hell,” Jean muttered under his breath, rushing forward quickly down the concrete steps to find out what exactly was going on. There wasn’t another skating rink around the area, right? This was the right one, _right_?

Of course it was. He’d been here before once, though he had driven, and the team had actually been there when he arrived. He pushed open the double doors that led to the ice, setting his bag down on the ground next to him, his shoulder aching from the weight of it. The rink was completely empty and silent aside for the sounds of finely sharpened blades scrapping the ice. Jean’s eyes were automatically drawn to the teen skating – obviously because he was the only moving object in the room and not because Jean _cared_ about whatever he was doing. That was the definitely reason he couldn’t pull this eyes away.

The kid looked his age, maybe younger, maybe older; it was hard to tell. He was skating quickly around the rink, his legs moving in delicate positions to reverse his position with precision Jean almost never experienced in hockey. Jean watched as he gained speed, still going backwards, before he dug the pick on his skate into the ground, launching himself into the air. His arms came up to cross neatly in front of his chest, his legs locked together as he got about a foot of height on the jump, rotating three times before landing, one leg sweeping in a long arch as he his arms came out to the side for balance, his body leaning forward slightly into the landing. Jean had only ever seen stuff like this on television when his mom forced him to watch it, or when there were little kids – mostly girls – practicing at the rink on his side of town.

“Hey! You!” A shout cut off his thoughts and he snapped his head away from the guy on the ice, looking quickly to the left. Some angry looking dude was coming towards him, a deep scowl on his face.

“I- um... Me?” Jean called back after looking around to make sure he was the only one there.

“Yes, you, you dipshit,” the man said, his voice only seeming to get angrier, “Do you see anyone else here?” Jean shook his head, looking to the left quickly to see the skater coming towards them, a curious look on his face, “It’s not your break for another twenty minutes,” the man called over to the skater, shooing him away, “This is a _closed_ practice. _Private_ ice time,” the man continued, turning his angry, grey glare back to Jean, “ _Get it?_ What are you here for?”

“The hockey team practice? At seven?” Jean supplied, feeling completely at the shorter man’s mercy.

“Can you read?” The reply was unexpected, but Jean slowly nodded anyway.

“Uh... Yes?”

“Your practice was pushed back an hour, dumb ass,” the man said, “Eight a.m. practice instead. Your coach forgot that I had this time booked,” the man said.

Oh.

Well, that explained it. The team sent out their reminders by text, and Jean had left his phone at Connie’s the night before. Now he felt really stupid. Stupid for running like an idiot all the way to the rink, and then showing up in some guy’s private time.

“Can I just wait here then?” he asked out meekly, really hoping the short guy would stop scrutinizing him.

“Fine. Just don’t bother him,” he said, nodding to the teen on the ice, “He’s training; you’ll only distract him.” With that, the man turned and walked back to where he was sitting on the opposite side of the rink. Jean was left sitting on a bench to the side, his gear bag next to him, having nothing else to do but watch the teen on the ice do another series of jumps and spins. From where he was sitting, Jean could tell the teen was good. He actually had a bigger build than Jean did, though he was still extremely delicate with his movements, not landing hard on the ice, as his body type would suggest. When he skated closer to the edge of the rink, Jean swore the teen sent him a sympathetic smile of sorts before skating away again. It looked like his face was made for smiling.

Without any phone to play games on, Jean resorted to fooling with the settings on his watch, and then just trying to entertain himself by making the different beeping sounds into a tune. He had tried the doors to the locker rooms only to find them locked since the coach wasn’t there yet so he couldn’t even get his gear on.

“Hello!” The greeting broke him out of his watch-induced trance and he looked up quickly to see the skater leaning against the side of the rink, a water bottle in one hand raised to his lips and an amused expression in his brown eyes.

“Uh... Hey. How’s it going?” Jean said back quickly, looking to the side of the rink where the short, angry man had been standing before only to see him missing in action.

“I’m on a break now. It’s fine,” the teen said, smiling after taking a sip from his water, “I just wanted to apologize for Levi. He gets really grumpy when we practice so early,” he shrugged, raising the shoulder that wasn’t leaning on the edge of the boards.

“Oh um... It’s fine. I was just stupid and didn’t get the message about practice,” Jean said, feeling like a complete idiot now that he said it out loud.

“Hockey, right?” the teen asked, eyeing Jean’s bag of gear with his stick messily sticking out of the zipper, “Are you new on the team this year? I don’t think I’ve seen you before,” he said, cocking his head to the side in a way that reminded Jean of some sort of puppy. A freaking _cute_ puppy.

“Yeah, I am actually. I tried out this past September,” he said, smiling a bit, “But I live on the other side of the city, so I don’t really come to this rink anyway,” he shrugged. The other teen nodded along, seeming genuinely interested in Jean’s words.

“That’s really cool! Congratulations on making the team,” the teen said, smiling even wider than before. He extended his hand as far as he could across the barrier towards Jean, and it took Jean a moment to realize he was offering to shake his hand, “I’m Marco,” the skater – Marco – said once Jean scrambled up and accepted his handshake, “It’s really nice to meet you...?”

“Jean,” he sputtered, “Jean Kirstein.” He had no idea why the hell he tacked on his last name. Marco didn’t need to know that anyway. Nevertheless, Marco smiled brightly and nodded.

“It’s really nice to meet you then, Jean,” he said sweetly, shaking Jean’s hand firmly before pulling away, leaving Jean with the final thought of how soft his hands were.

“So you’re a... Figure skater?” Jean asked lamely, stating the obvious because he really had nothing else to say and he just wanted too _look at the kid_.

Jean knew he was gay by sophomore year, and he was fine with it. He had had a huge crush on Mikasa Ackerman all eighth grade, but after the summer, he hadn’t felt it anymore, and by the time he was sixteen, he knew he wasn’t into girls at all. He’d never really had a crush on a guy. He usually just acknowledged their features as being attractive and all, but he just didn’t know what to do to ask a guy out, not considering the fact that the only other openly gay guy he knew was one of his hockey teammates, and he wasn’t necessarily open to the team. Still, Marco wasn’t just a one-look kind of guy. Jean had been staring at him for nearly forty-five minutes now and he still hadn’t picked up on everything.

Then there was the fact he was actually talking to Marco. Usually he just looked from afar, as creepy as it sounded when he reflected in his head. Marco’s voice wasn’t as deep as he thought it would be, but it wasn’t high-pitched or anything. His words were soft, firm but gentle, and they just seemed to flow so easily from his lips. Jean took note of the splashes of freckles that doused his cheeks and ran across the bridge of his nose, the way his cheeks dimpled in just the right way when he smiled, and how easily he seemed to smile too. He was the picture of charming and cute all in one, not to mention his physique was top-notch. Jean could see how broad his shoulders were and his arms were on display with his short-sleeved shirt.

“Yep!” Marco’s cheerful response snapped him from his thoughts, “Was it that hard to tell?” he asked, giggling slightly at his own joke.

Fuck. He _giggled_.

“What? No!” Jean said quickly, “No, you’re... You’re really great. I could never do any of that stuff if I tried,” he admitted, “Okay... Well, maybe I could get like an inch of the ground, if that,” he chuckled with a grin, leaning against the boards, “Geez, you must practice that stuff a lot.”

“I have been here since four a.m.,” Marco shrugged, laughing again at the stunned look that came over Jean’s face.

“Four?” Jean sputtered, thinking of where he was at four in the morning. Oh yeah, dead asleep, “Holy shit... Geez man, I wouldn’t be able to even get up to try to skate like you do. How many cups of coffee are you running on? Aren’t you sleep deprived?”

“I don’t like coffee in the mornings... Especially not before I skate,” Marco stated, wrinkling his nose a bit, “When you have a schedule like I do, you become a morning person or quit the sport to be honest. Getting up that early doesn’t really bother me anymore. I mean, I go for a nap when I get home after this, but only a short one,” he explained.

Jean was about to ask something else when Marco’s coach, Levi apparently, came back into the rink, “Ah, well,” Marco smiled, “I have to go now, Jean, but it was super nice talking to you!” he beamed, pushing away from the boards a bit, “I’ll talk to you again sometime!” With that, he skated off to the other side of the rink towards the doors that led to the figure skating locker rooms, which Jean had heard were much nicer and smelled a lot less than the hockey locker rooms.

I’ll talk to you again sometimes. Marco seemed pretty sure of those words, and Jean couldn’t help but feel excited. 

* * *

Jean had never played center before – he was always a winger, a left-winger to be specific – but Coach Smith had sized him up compared to the others and made him a center forward. Not that he was complaining or anything. Center was a great position. Jean knew he was faster than some of the other skaters, and obviously Coach Smith saw that too. Unfortunately, Eren fucking Jaeger was the other first line center and Coach Smith had the nerve of naming him second assistant captain, which was compete bullshit.

The team was composed of only a few people Jean knew. Reiner was the other assistant captain and he was a defenseman, probably the best they had considering his size. He was known for getting the most penalty minutes on any team he was in, looking for any opportunity to get on other players’ nerves and spark a fight by the second period. But hey, that was his job after all.

Jean had no idea how Armin started playing goalie or how the hell he was so good at it. The kid was miniature by hockey standards, standing at nearly 5’5”, yet his save percentage was usually around 95% and he only allowed _maybe_ a goal per game. All teasing from the older players had stopped after their first practice match with Armin in the goal, and Jean found it rather amusing how the older guys had this sort of fearful reverence on their faces whenever Armin was around, though the kid would never hurt a fly.

The only other player Jean vaguely knew was Bertholdt Fubar. He was the tallest player on the team, and Jean almost wondered why he didn’t play basketball instead of hockey. Nevertheless, he was a fantastic defenseman, and combined with Reiner, getting close to the goal was nearly impossible. He was aggressive on the ice, but off he seemed almost timid, at Reiner’s side every second, rarely speaking at their meetings about strategy. He went along with mostly what Reiner said, which wasn’t unwarranted with the blond being assistant captain, but he rarely talked to anyone else.

Practice went smoothly. Jean hadn’t meant to get brownie points by showing up before anyone else, but it worked out that way. Jean found himself focused on how much better the ice was at the rink compared to the one nearer to his house. Their Zamboni must actually work or something. The ice at the other rink was usually slow. It chipped easily and created too much snow during stops and just regular game play. Two hours went by much faster than Jean had expected, and he was back in the locker room, ignoring the small of sweaty gear and equally sweaty hockey players while he changed.

It was a common joke among them. New gear was only going to be truly clean once before the first match or practice, and that was certainly true for the new shoulder pads Jean had just gotten after having his old ones since middle school.

He bade good-bye the remaining teammates in the locker room, Reiner’s words of ‘see you at school’ echoing down the hall as he walked out.

The ice was filled with a combination of small children toddling around on the ice, constantly falling down, and people participating in the morning free skate. As Jean walked around the rink to get back to the doors leading out, he spotted a familiar face, or familiar blonde hair to be specific.

“Jean! Hey!” Before he could even call to her, Krista Lenz was skating towards him, stopping at the boards, her blonde hair swaying behind her with the force of her stop.

“Hey Krista,” he grinned, “Still stuck teaching these kids?” he joked. Krista was one of the instructors for the learn-to-skate the rink held most morning, weekend mornings for kids and weekday mornings for adults. She was also a figure skater, but Jean didn’t know what she got more pleasure from, skating or teaching kids how to skate.

“Of course!” she said happily, her blue eyes bright, “A new class just started today! The new kids are so cute,” she gushed, looing back over her shoulder at them before turning her attention back to Jean, “Hockey practice this morning I’m assuming?” she asked, noting the bag hanging off his shoulder, to which he gave a nod, “That’s great! Well, I better go before they all start falling down out there,” she giggled, pushing off the wall and waving, “See you later, Jean!” 

* * *

A week went by before Jean saw Marco again, though that didn’t mean he didn’t endlessly think about him. He most certainly thought about him. He even went as far to look him up. The freckled teen didn’t have a Facebook, but who needed a Facebook when you had a Wikipedia page ad a ton of YouTube videos all about you. Jean felt a bit creepy looking him up, knowing his height and age and birth date and hometown, but he was surprised Marco was really that well known. His Wikipedia page said that he had won a gold medal in the national junior championships the previous year and a gold in the world junior championships, and, even though he was only seventeen, he was going to be in senior level competitions that year. From what Jean read, a lot of skaters stayed in juniors until they were more advanced, but if Marco was already good enough to win the junior championship or whatever, why shouldn’t he move up.

Just from seeing him skate once, Jean knew Marco was a good skater, if good was even an appropriate word to describe his talent. He was also interesting, nice to talk to, and cute.

And Jean had made up his mind to at least ask him to go get coffee with him. He didn’t want to straight up ask him on a date or ask him for his phone number. What if Marco wasn’t even gay? Though, he didn’t take Marco as being the kind of person to get offended if another guy asked him out, but Jean still wanted to play it safe and all.

He purposefully got the rink about ten minutes early the next Saturday, after checking on his phone that he definitely had the right time this week. He hadn’t even gotten his phone back from Connie until Tuesday, since the idiot didn’t even notice that he had left it at his house.

To his surprise, the rink was empty when he got there and he started to feel all the preparing he did for the moment seeping out of him. He could see there were marks on the ice where someone had been spinning or twirling, but Marco, or any other skater for that matter, was no where to be found. He headed down the stairs to the side of the locker rooms meant for the figure skaters, noticing a door ajar at the end of the hall with the light on. He contemplated walking down there to see how was in the room, but he didn’t want to walk in on whoever it was naked or something, _especially_ if it was Marco.

Instead, Jean leaned against the wall, pulling out his phone while he waited. He hadn’t even heard the door in the hall close or the sounds of footsteps before there was a tap on his shoulder, startling him enough to jump and drop his phone.

“What the h-“

“S-sorry!” A frenzied apology cut him off and he watched as Marco bent down to pick up his phone for him, hurriedly wiping it off and making sure it wasn’t scratched before he handed it to him, “I’m really sorry, Jean. I didn’t mean to startle you or anything. I hope your phone isn’t broken.” Jean stood, a little dumbstruck at the sight of Marco there, worrying his bottom lip between his teeth with a hesitant look in his eyes.

“Hey, no worries, man. I’m sure it’s fine,” Jean said, giving him a grin, hoping to get the worried look off his face. His expression helped and Marco’s features relaxed a bit, an easy smile coming over his lips.

“Good. I’m glad,” he smiled, “I’d feel awful if I had broken it... So, what are you doing here? More hockey practice?”

“Uh huh,” Jean nodded, “In about ten minutes. I was just looking for you first.” Wait. No. That came out wrong, and Jean could already feel heat coming to his ears. Marco’s smile only got wider at that.

“Looking for me? Why?” he asked, actually bouncing once on his heels in some sort of excitement. Fuck, that was cute.

“I kinda wanted to know if you wanted to get coffee or something? Or breakfast if you haven’t had any yet. Or just coffee is fine too,” Jean stammered out, knowing he’d said too much and probably looked like an idiot. He had been planning this speech for a week now. An entire week of repeating in his head, “Wanna get coffee?” and instead, he pretty much said exactly what was on his mind, which was as embarrassing as the attempt could get. To his surprise, Marco smiled wide and nodded eagerly.

“Sure!” he said happily, his eyes bright in a way that Jean had never even before on a real human being. Was Marco even a real human being? He seemed too perfect, “I know a great coffee shop near here. It’s really cozy and they have couches if you don’t want to sit at a table,” he offered excitedly, “Sound good?”

“Oh um... Yeah! Sounds great,” Jean said, getting over the momentary surprise of having Marco look even more excited than he was, “So, are you free after my practice? It’s only ninety minutes today, but I understand if you don’t want to wait...”

“No, no! I’m fine with waiting, really,” Marco said immediately, “I practically live at the rink anyway, so what’s ninety more minutes of my time,” he giggled, “I’ll meet you near the concession stands after your practice, okay? See you then!” Without even waiting for Jean to respond, Marco happily waved good-bye to him and walked off into a room that stored all the figure skating stuff, the door clicking shut behind him.

Jean stared into space for a second, rewinding and playing the whole encounter over again in his head. Marco had accepted his offer, and accepted _eagerly_ at that. Jean allowed himself to smile, the expression nearly hurting his cheeks as he started to walk to the hockey locker rooms, keeping the skip he desperately wanted to put in his step hidden for fear that someone would see him and ask him why he was acting so excited.

It wasn’t a date yet, but still, it was a step in the right direction, and Jean couldn’t wait for practice to be over. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, thank you for reading! I hope to have the next chapter up soon!
> 
> Any comments and kudos are sooooo appreciated! They literally make my day! 
> 
> Thank you so much!


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow! Thank you all so much for the response to the last chapter! I was so excited to get so many comments and views! This chapter is longer than the last and I had a really fun time writing it so I hope you have a fun time reading it!
> 
> Enjoy!

Jean _really_ hoped he didn’t stink of sweat. Like, of all the times he needed to not smell like a locker room, right now would be the best. He stayed a few minutes longer in the locker room, making sure he had on enough deodorant to cover up most of the stench he acquired at practice.

“Got a hot date, Kirstein?” Reiner’s voice at the door made him jump and he quickly looked towards the doorway to see the blond leaning against the doorframe, a smirk on his face.

“Wh-what?” Jean stammered, “No. No, I’m not- Stop looking at me like that!” he nearly yelled, gritting his teeth at the smug look Reiner was sporting.

“Y’know, you can tell me these things, Jean,” Reiner said as he strode into the room, throwing a beefy arm over Jean’s shoulders, “I have been on several dates with a member of the male gender and let me tell you, making sure you don’t smell like shit before them is step one.”

“Geez, dude! Get the fuck off!” Jean snapped, shrugging the arm off his shoulders with some difficulty, “I’m not going on a date,” he growled, stuffing the rest of his stuff into his bag before shoving it into a locker, grabbing his jacket before he slamming the metal door shut.

“Okay, okay,” Reiner said, putting his hands up in defeat, “I understand if you don’t want to tell me about your date, whether it’s secret or not secret,” he said in an innocent tone as he started to walk out, “But, if you want, there’s some cologne in my locker I wouldn’t be opposed to letting you use if you were going on a date,” he called as he left the room. Jean waited a few minutes until he was sure he was gone before crossing the room to Reiner’s locker.

Okay, so maybe he was going to look at this like a pre-date.

And maybe he used some of Reiner’s cologne just to be sure. He didn’t want it to be overpowering or anything, but still, he didn’t want Marco to think he was unsanitary. Marco always seemed to look so fresh and put together. Jean didn’t want to look like a slob.

He walked out of the locker rooms, after steeling himself for approaching Marco, and made his way up to the top level of the rink, his eyes scanning over to the concession stand area. He immediately spotted Marco sitting in a chair, very focused on the game on his phone. The way his eyebrows were knitted together in concentration was adorable to say the least.

“Marco!” Marco looked up immediately at Jean’s call, a smile coming onto his face.

“Hey Jean!” he said happily, standing up from the chair and politely pushing it in under the table, “Ready to go?” he asked, grabbing his jacket, clearly already knowing Jean’s answer as he slid it on and pushed his phone into his pocket.

The walk to the coffee shop was quiet, but not awkwardly so. Jean had no idea where he was going, considering he was never in this part of town, but Marco just gave him a reassuring smile and continued walking. It was a nice day in the city, perfect for a date – _not_ a date – if it wasn’t so freaking cold out. It was unusually cold for just November, and Jean couldn’t wait to get inside and have some coffee to warm him up. Marco had a rather warm looking scarf wrapped around his neck and gloves on, but Jean was shivering in his thin jacket.

Marco stopped walking abruptly and Jean almost walked right past him when he did, “What’s up?” Jean asked, raising an eyebrow in confusion.

“Nothing! Nothing... It’s just that... you look really cold,” Marco stammered, quickly unwinding his scarf from around his neck and stepping closer to Jean, “Here. You need this more than I do. The walk is another ten minutes too.” Jean felt his cheeks starting to warm as Marco stepped closer to him and he resisted backing away.

The scarf was warm from previously being around Marco’s neck, and the freckled teen has that cute look of concentration back on his face as he wrapped it around his neck, “There!” he said happily, smiling down at him, “Much better, right?” Jean opened his mouth to respond, but he really didn’t know what to say so he just nodded, his cheeks no doubt burning red, though he could blame the color on the cold. Marco smiled wider and nodded, “Good! I’m glad. I can’t have you freezing to death before we get there,” he giggled. He started to step away again but paused, and Jean had a mini-heart attack as he leaned closer again, “You smell really good, Jean,” Marco remarked before his own cheeks flooded with color and he stepped away quickly, “I-I’m sorry... That was really weird of me to say,” he stammered, “I-I mean, um... S-sorry!” he squeaked, turning his face away to Jean’s disappointment. He would’ve loved to see Marco’s cheeks rosy and flushed for a little while longer.

He supposed he’d have to thank Reiner one day.

Or just find out what the hell kind of cologne he had and buy some for himself. If Marco thought it smelled nice, then he definitely needed to get some of his own.

 The rest of the walk was quiet like before if not a little bit more awkward. Jean felt much warmer than before with Marco scarf, and he couldn’t help but love the fact that the fabric smelled like Marco. It smelled faintly of cinnamon and something sweet – maybe vanilla – and Jean had to look down to hide the blush when he realized he identified a certain scent with Marco. Fuck, he was hopeless at that point, and he had only known the guy a week, talked to him twice at that.

“Ah! We’re here!” Marco said, stopping in front of a small shop. Jean could already smell the coffee coming off of the storefront, and the scent only increased when Marco pushed the door open, the bells hanging on it tinkling sweetly as they walked inside.

The shop was as busy as Jean had expected it to be since it was still the morning. There were couches against the windows next to wall sockets for people with laptops, and other small circular tables spread around.

“So, how was practice?” Marco asked when they sat down at one of the table, a steaming hot chocolate doused in whipped cream in front of him. Jean was surprised when Marco didn’t order coffee, but something about the other teen ordering cocoa instead seemed so expectable of him. Jean had gotten just a regular coffee, nothing fancy, though Marco had insisted he should try an espresso or latte the next time they got coffee together, which made Jean question if his hearing was currently working.

“It was pretty good,” he shrugged, “We have out first match next week.” The team they were scheduled to play was nothing special. They were from the next town over, small and unorganized. Coach Smith had expressed that the first line players would probably be pulled after the first period if things were going well in terms of scoring.

“Ooh, really? What day?” Marco asked as he stirred his drink to cool it down a bit, “If I’m free, I’ll come and watch!”

“Uh it’s... Friday, yeah, Friday,” Jean nodded, making sure he got the date right. He knew Marco wouldn’t be coming as soon as the freckled teen’s face fell, and he felt just as disappointed as Marco looked.

“I have training with my choreographer on Friday,” Marco sighed, a pout coming to his face, “Maybe your next game then!” he brightened up, “I could bring my whole family! My little brothers _love_ hockey.”

“Sounds good,” Jean grinned. Marco just seemed like the kind of person so have younger siblings, “Is your choreographer the same as that... other guy? Levi, right?” Marco shook his head no as he set down his mug of still too-hot cocoa.

“No. Levi’s my coach, but just that. Most skaters have a coach and then a choreographer, or even two of each or two of one,” he explained, “Or some really good skaters go without a coach or choreographer and make up their entire routine themselves,” he said, “Levi became my coach when I was fourteen, when a whole bunch of people were prospecting me as some sort of... Potential Olympic talent,” he said with a shrug, “But I don’t know about that.”

“The Olympics? Really?” Jean asked, his eyes widened as he set down his coffee. He had thought Marco was good from just seeing him once, but Olympic level good? Jean could see it though. From what he’d seen of figure skating, Marco had all the qualities of one of those Olympic level people, but clearly the other teen didn’t think so judging but the look on his face.

“Yeah, I guess,” Marco sighed, shrugging both of his shoulders again, “I mean, it’ll never happen. First I have to actually do well at the national championships, and with the level of everyone else there-“

“Oh come on,” Jean cut him off quickly, hating the sound of Marco doubting himself, “You’re fantastic Marco. I’ve only seen you skate for, like, twenty fucking minutes, and I know you’ll be good enough.”

“Jean, you,” Marco stammered, looking up with slightly flushed cheeks, “You really think that?” he asked softly, his eyebrows turning up into an unsure look, “Everyone else is so much better than me...”

“Only because they’ve had more experience and all that,” Jean scoffed, “And that doesn’t make them better than you.” He said firmly, “That just makes them all high and mighty, which means they’ll choke when they need to be good,” he stated boldly, sitting back in his chair. Marco giggled softly at that, looking up shyly.

“Speaking from personal experience, Jean?” he asked, a teasing tone to his voice.

“Hell yeah I am,” Jean said without hesitating, “When I was first in junior hockey, I was the shit at it, like, I thought I was the best player in the entire world and all that,” he admitted, “When I got onto the team at my high school, I made a huge idiot of myself. I was just some fourteen-year-old loser and I actually said I was better than the seniors on the team. Then I got my first bad concussion the first freaking game and I was out for three weeks,” he laughed, shaking his head as he remembered the humiliation. He could tell Marco was trying not to laugh, smiling through lips pressed tightly together, “You can laugh,” he shrugged, “It’s actually pretty funny now.” At that, Marco pressed a hand to his mouth, still trying to stop his laughter, though it was muffled now.

“Well,” he huffed when he had quelled his laughter, a smile playing at his lips, “I have to admit that was amusing,” he giggled, smiling across the table.

“Don’t miss the point,” Jean said, grinning back at him, “I meant it when I said you’re fantastic. You could probably skate circles around me.”

Marco was quiet for a moment before he looked up from his cocoa, smiling softly, “Thanks, Jean… You’re really great,” he said quietly, “And you’re right. I could easily skate circles around you,” he sighed melodramatically, his eyes growing brighter as his words took on a teasing tone.

“Don’t let it get to your head. I could kick your ass in hockey any day.”

“Oh really?” Marco practically purred, leaning casually on the table, “Think you can? I bet you couldn’t,” he taunted, an eyebrow rising in challenge. Jean could feel challenge rising in him, amplified by Marco’s words and the face he pulled, his fists curling under the table.

“You’re treading in dangerous waters, Marco,” he shot back, “Do I smell a challenge?” At the nod Marco gave, that smirk still spread across his lips, Jean gave one of his own, teeth gritting, “Okay then. You’re on,” he nodded, leaning back in his chair nonchalantly, “Just say when and where.”

“I think you’re forgetting something _very_ important,” Marco said, sitting back as well.

“And what might that be?”

“What you have to do when you lose of course,” he stated as if it were the most obvious thing in the world, “I think… When you lose, you’re going to put on a pair of figure skates, and I’ll teach you how to connect with your inner graceful, goddess,” he giggled, “Or I’ll just watch when you fall on your butt.” Jean could feel the heat coming to his cheeks at Marco suggestion, but he wasn’t about to back down from that. Was Marco seriously questioning his _manliness_ of all things? Bull shit; Jean wasn’t going to have any of that.

“You’re on!” he said, and maybe a little too loud at that as it turned a few heads in the coffee shop, “I’m going to kick your ass, and when you lose, you’re going to have to-“

Well, shit. What could he have Marco do if– _when_ he lost?

“Yes?” Marco questioned sweetly, a smile bleeding innocence on his lips, though Jean knew he was just teasing him.

“You’ll have to go on a date with me,” Jean said, a grin spreading over his face. He was surprised he wasn’t stammering or fumbling over his words, but the challenging look on Marco’s face was enough to quell any nerves. That look was instantly removed from the other teen’s face and Jean watched with an amused expression as Marco’s cheeks heated up, flushing a bright red as he quickly averted his gaze.

“O-Oh,” he squeaked, rubbing his arm in a nervous way, “I um… I-I guess that’s a… Fine reward,” he trailed off, peeking back up at Jean, his cheeks still aflame.

“Awesome. Then it’s settled.” He reached across the table to shake on it. Marco eyed his hand with a confused expression for a moment before he hesitantly reached out and shook Jean’s hand, looking not as sure of himself as before, but he hadn’t declined Jean’s terms with any sort of disgust – only reacting with adorably flushed cheeks – and, as far as he was considered, Jean considered that a clear answer to his question of Marco’s sexuality.

They talked a little while longer before Jean ran out of coffee and Marco got a text from his mom asking him why he wasn’t home yet. Jean figured it was a fine time to head out since he had a shit ton of homework to do anyway.

“So um… Thanks for asking me ou- _to get coffee with you_ ,” Marco quickly corrected himself as they stood in front of the shop on the sidewalk again, his cheeks gaining only a light pink color that time. Jean caught his near mistake and couldn’t help but feel victorious, like there was some chance.

“No problem, man,” Jean grinned, “You’re great to talk to and everything.” Marco gave him a smile and Jean was once again entranced by the cute way his cheeks dimpled and his eyes seemed to shine brighter when he smiled.

He had started to walk the opposite way from Marco to get back to where he parked his car at the rink when he heard Marco’s voice calling out for him to wait, a hand on his shoulder a moment after.

“Sorry! Sorry I just um… I forgot to ask but,” Marco stammered nervously, staring at his feet for a moment, “Can I have your phone number? Do you want mine? We can text and stuff,” he said quickly, “Unless you don’t want to-“

“No!” Jean nearly shouted, “I mean, no, _of course_ want your number,” he quickly recovered, pulling his phone out of his pocket while Marco fished around for his own, handing it to Jean with a new contact open.

Finally, after exchanging numbers, they went their separate place and, as soon as Jean was sure he was out of Marco’s view, he let a grin spread across his face.

* * *

 

It wasn’t until Jean got home that afternoon that he realized he was still wearing Marco’s scarf. With that, he sent his first text to the freckled teen.

 

**To: Marco**

_hey sorry i kinda stole your scarf_

Only a few minutes after he sent the message, his phone vibrated with a new message.

 

**From: Marco**

_Gah! I knew something was missing! >n< Ah well, I know it’s in good hands :) Can you just leave it in the figure skating room after your next hockey practice? That’d be great! ^w^_

 

Jean laughed softly to himself; Marco seemed exactly like the kind of person who would use perfect grammar in a damn text message, and those silly emoticons too.

**_To: Marco_ **

_sure thing :)_

 

He had no idea why he put the stupid smiley face. Marco had so he sort of kind of felt obligated.

Yeah, that was definitely the reason.

The texts didn’t stop throughout the week, starting Monday morning with a message at four a.m. that Jean got when he woke up at seven of Marco wishing him a good morning.

 

**To Marco:**

_what the fuck were you doing at freaking 4 am?!_

**From Marco:**

_Practice of course! I just left the rink :3 Heading to school now._

 

Shit. Marco was almost too dedicated from Jean’s comprehension. Getting up at four in the morning and being productive at that hour? That was a pipe dream as far as he was concerned.

Along with the extremely frequent texts from Marco, Jean found that the freckled teen had an affinity for photo messages too, constantly sending pictures of various things. Hot chocolate, the rink, his skates were among a few.

 

**From Marco:**

_Spot says hi! [photo attached]_

 

That was the first photo Marco sent that wasn’t from school or the rink. Jean opened the message to see half of Marco’s face in the top of the photo, smiling cutely with his arm around the neck of a large black dog, some sort of mixed breed. The dog had its mouth open in a smile; it’s tongue lolling out to the side, the fur around its muzzle greying with age.

 

**To Marco:**

_did you seriously name your dog spot? isnt that like number 1 on the list of generic dog names?_

 

**From Marco:**

_I was four when I named him. Sorry for my limited vocabulary ;P_

 

**From Marco:**

_He does have a spot on his back though so the name is justified._

  

Jean couldn’t help but to save the photo onto his phone, finding it too cute to just look at it once. Of course, no one else had to know he was being a total creep and saving photos of Marco to his phone. Friends did that for friends, right?

* * *

 

It was Wednesday night after practice that Jean finally remembered to bring Marco’s scarf and leave it in the room of figure skating equipment, though he wouldn’t really call it equipment himself with his knowledge of what was used in hockey. He waited until all the other team members were gone before walking to the other side of the rink, reaching the door and hesitantly opening it. The lights came on when he entered and, thankfully, no one else was in the room. He shut the door quietly behind him and stood still just to take in the room.

One side was a long row of extremely sparkly skating dresses that the female skaters wore; marked with names and other letters Jean supposed were to indicate which performances they were for. The other wall of the room held the same, though for men and much less sparkly. Still, the outfits held more glitter and sequins than had ever been in Jean’s presence before, and he’d certainly never associated guys with such flamboyant clothing. The room was larger than what Jean had thought, and the back wall was covered in floor-length mirrors, but he guessed that was for the luxury of stretching out before performances.

He slowly walked over to the row of men’s costumes, his eyes gazing over the messily scrawled names on the tags for the costumes, finally coming to costumes indicated to be Marco’s. The first hanging was a dark red shirt and pants, very plain by the looks of the other costumes, though the shirt was slightly embellished in silver. Jean smiled to himself, finding that he could imagine Marco wearing the outfit. It suited him; the dark red of the shirt would look perfect with his dark hair and warm brown eyes-

“What the hell are you doing in here?”

The voice startled Jean so badly he actually jumped, stumbling back before he spun around, stumbling yet again before he righted himself. Marco’s coach was standing in the doorway, an angry look on his face, his grey eyes narrowed in annoyance.

“I-I um,” Jean heard himself stammer, “Marco, he um,” he quickly held up Marco’s scarf, “He told me to leave this here. Since I accidentally forgot to give it back to him,” he explained, eyes wide as he stared across the room at the shorter man. Levi stalked towards him, snatching Marco’s scarf from his hand, moving towards the hangers where Marco’s costumes were hang, arranging it neatly over one of the hangers before turning to Jean.

“Most of this clothing costs upwards of two thousand dollars,” he spat without preamble, his voice still on-guard and angry, “We’ve had problems with you shithead hockey players thinking it’s funny to come in here and vandalize this shit.” Jean’s eyes widened when he heard Levi’s words and he immediately shook his head, back up a step or two.

“Shit- No, I would never do any of that,” he said quickly, putting his hands up in surrender, “I swear to God I was just returning the scarf.” Levi’s gaze was still scrutinizing, but he leaned back a bit against the wall, crossing his arms in front of his chest as he watched Jean.

“Marco’s been talking about you,” he said slowly. When Jean opened his mouth to speak again, Levi beat him to it; “I don’t give a shit if you want to be friends or whatever the hell else you’ll get into,” he stated firmly, “But if you even do one thing to fuck up his skating, to make him lose focus, to distract him for even a _second_ during any of his practices, I’ll make sure Coach Smith has you off that team you’re on immediately, and I’ll see to it that you’re _never_ allowed in this rink again. Are we clear?”

“I think that’s enough, Levi.” Jean looked up at the familiar voice, his eyes landing on Coach Smith standing in the doorway, a smile on his lips, “Jean’s a good kid. He won’t do any of that.” Levi looked even more annoyed at the coach’s arrival, but it seemed like a different kind of annoyance.

“Whatever,” he snarled, pushing off the wall and stalking over to Coach Smith in the doorway, “I’ve still got my eye on you,” he called back across the room, giving Jean a glare.

“Come on, Levi,” Coach Smith laughed, “We’ve got dinner reservations.”

“It’s fucking Wednesday night, Erwin. You don’t need reservations for Wednesday night.” Jean listened, motionless, as his coach and Marco’s coach walked off down the hall together, apparently in some sort of argument about dinner that almost sounded like a lover’s squabble.

In fact, that was _definitely_ a lover’s squabble.

As he walked out, he pulled out his cell, texting Marco slowly as he climbed the stairs.

 

**To Marco:**

_put ur scarf back but holy shit dude your coach is scary as fuck_

 

**To Marco:**

_also is ur coach and coach smith a thing because they kinda seemed like it_

 

**From Marco:**

_Thanks so much! Did he ambush you? o_o Sorry! I forgot he usually stays late to wait for Erwin after hockey practice ^^;_

**From Marco:**

_And yes, they are. But don’t tell people, okay? Not that I would assume you’re a blabbermouth, but they’re kind of private about it is all :)_

 

**To Marco:**

_yeah no prob ttyl driving now_

 

After getting home, having dinner, and doing an hour of homework, Jean decided he should probably turn in for the night. As he was about to go to bed, he checked his phone, noticing a message from Marco from about an hour earlier. Blinking sleepily, he opened it, reading slowly from the tiredness clogging his brain.

 

**From Marco:**

_Got you my spare pair! I figured they would fit for when you lose. How’s Saturday at 9 a.m. sound? >;) [photo attached]_

 

Jean sighed and opened the photo. The picture consisted of a pair of figure skates with a post-it note stuck to them that read “Jean” in neat hand-writing he automatically associated would fit perfectly with Marco’s personality.

 

**To Marco:**

_where should we go for our date when i win?_

 

He smirked to himself as he sent the message before plugging his phone in and turning it off for the night, sliding into bed with thoughts of Marco in his head.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter three is in the works! I'll have it out in the next few days or so!
> 
> All comments, kudos, and views are so, so appreciated! They make my day to see them in my email. 
> 
> Thank you for the support!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! I apologize if this took a bit longer than expected! I've been busy with family things since I'm on vacation right now.
> 
> Hope you enjoy this chapter!

Jean absolutely loved the thrill of being on the rink in a game. It was so different from practice. With the sounds of the crowd, the grinding of foreign blades on their ice, and the animosity that was born when the puck initially dropped, it was an entirely different experience. Jean had been craving it, ready for their first game as soon as he learned he had made the team. Coach Smith was trying out new tactics this game since the opponent was no big deal. Jean actually found himself feeling a bit sorry for the terrified looks the opposing defensemen got on their faces when they saw Reiner and Bertholdt.

Jean found himself with the puck after five minutes of play. Eren had passed it to him. While they fought endlessly off the ice, they had a mutual agreement to put away those feelings during the game, and it was beneficial to them both. As his opposite forward, Jean knew Eren would be there nine times out of ten to help him get the goal. He was nearing the net, two of the other team’s defensemen on his tail. Their goalie looked nervous, as if he was trying to hide behind his mask instead of staring down the attempted scorers.

Jean wanted to get the goal, but he knew he couldn’t. The guys behind him were closing in, one of their alternate captains coming at him from the side. With only a second left to get the puck away before he was blocked in, he shot it towards Eren. Eren was fast, maybe not as fast as Jean was, but what he lacked in speed he made up with in strength. The buzzer sounded as Eren shot the puck into the net, the hard, round disc whipping over the goalie’s shoulder, smacking into the back of the net. Reiner was the first to go for Eren, grabbing an arm around his neck and giving him what would seem like a noogie if he didn’t have a helmet on. Reiner was like that; he had the most team spirit of all of them.

The first period progressed. Reiner managed to rack up four penalty minutes for tripping and checking, which he angrily denied and was threatened with two more minutes for unsportsmanlike conduct. Everyone on the team knew it was for show. Sure, it was Reiner’s role to protect the smaller, more vulnerable forwards, but he loved going overboard. Jean was sure if he ever got onto a national team he would be a big hit with fans. It was odd to go to a hockey game and not see a fight, unless it was dorky, junior hockey of course. Reiner liked to see it as starting early in attracting hockey scouts.

Jean got his chance with the puck again with only a minute left in the first period. Reiner had slapped the puck away from the goal, sending it sliding around the back of the net where Jean picked it up. The opposing team was scattered from the last attempt on goal and Jean saw an obvious opening in their defense. He started down the ice, keeping a steady hold on the puck with his stick, avoiding the one or two defensemen that came for him. He was close to the goal, the goalie looking more prepared than last time, but the kid didn’t have a chance. Jean could see three openings at least, three places to easily get the goal. The goalie’s legs were spread too far for his reflexes. They’d close seconds after Jean shot the puck through.

So that was exactly what Jean did. The buzzer sounded again, mixed with the clock as the time ran down. His teammates slapped him on the arm and helmet as they headed inside for the first intermission.

They were winning four to nothing so Jean expected it with Coach Smith pulled most of the first string and sent in the second group of forwards and defensemen. He left Armin in the goal though, not wanting to remove the entire group that got them a lead just in case.

The rest of the game went by quickly. The second string players scored two more goals, and Armin only let one goal in near the end of the third period. It was a good game for it only being their first together and Jean felt content as he finished putting his street shoes on in the locker room before leaving for the night. 

* * *

 

Jean woke to the sound of his alarm blaring at eight-thirty the next morning. He forgot for a moment exactly why it was waking him up early on a Saturday with no practice but then he remembered. Marco. The rink. That stupid taunting look on his face from the coffee shop.

He got ready in record time, grabbing his keys and running out to the car. When he got to the rink, he knew he was early. Almost no one was there, and the free skate time wasn’t until noon that day anyway. With no hockey practice, Marco was the only one on the ice. Jean quietly slipped into the rink and walked to the edge of the ice to wait until Marco was done. Soft, classical music was playing in the room, which Jean guessed was for some sort of routine Marco was doing since his skating was more rigorous than what Jean had seen before.

After a moment, Jean was aware of another presence and he quickly looked to the side. Of course. Levi was standing there, his eyes shooting daggers into what would’ve been the back of Jean’s head before he turned around. Judging that he got the message, Levi turned his gaze back to Marco on the ice, and Jean did the same. He was here to look at Marco, not his coach. Well, he was here to kick Marco’s ass in hockey, but watching him was a bonus.

Marco’s music was reaching a crescendo, and Jean guessed he was nearly done.  In the same way as before, Jean watched Marco launch himself into the air, arms folded, legs tight together as he spun in the air four times and came down on the ice, chunks of white chipping out under his skate when he did. He finished when the music did and, in Jean’s eyes at least, the whole thing seemed pretty damn perfect.

Obviously Marco didn’t think so, and neither did Levi judging by the frustrated look on the shorter man’s face. Marco actually looked _sad_ and sort of defeated as he skated over to Levi.

“You fucked up the landing again on the quad loop. Did you _see_ all the snow you brought up?” Jean heard Levi say as he walked closer. Marco nodded dejectedly, raising his water bottle to his lips.

“I know,” he sighed, still trying to catch his breath a bit, “I’m sorry. I was just tense this morning.”

“How many times have I told you: don’t apologize to me,” Levi said incredulously, “I’m not the one skating for a medal here, not anymore anyway. If you fuck up, it’s on your own conscious, and you damn well better use that to get better, okay?” he snapped before his gaze went to Jean, “Your friend is here. Don’t do anything stupid.” Marco’s head snapped up from where he was staring down at the ice when he heard Levi mention Jean. A smile came to his face, erasing the down look he had a moment earlier.

“Jean! Hey!”

“Hey Marco,” he greeted in return, walking up to face the taller teen, “You ready to get your ass kicked?” he sneered, giving Marco a challenging grin. Marco only laughed at that.

After Marco took his skates off and put them away, they walked over to the hockey locker rooms. To Jean’s surprise, Marco had his own hockey gear there.

“Uh… Why do you have all that?” he asked, eyeing Marco’s skates, stick, and pads suspiciously.

“Hm? Oh! My dad plays with his friends on the weekends on a local team,” he smiled, “This is his stuff. Well, they’re my hockey skates for when I go to my little brothers’ practices and help out, so mostly his stuff,” he explained as he quickly laced up the skates.

They went back out to the ice, moving two nets into place on the empty rink before deciding the rules.

“Right,” Jean nodded, “First to score three goals wins. Deal?” Marco nodded, smiling happily as he shook Jean’s hand to agree on the rules before pulling his helmet on and assuming a position in front of his net on his side of the ice.

Jean thought it would be wise to go easy on Marco in the beginning. He figured Marco probably didn’t have much experience in hockey, getting used to being competitive on the skates with the stick and controlling the puck. When Marco practically flew past him, skating faster than he had seen any hockey player, swiping the puck right off the edge of his stick and launching it into the net, he knew he should probably go all out.

After recovering from the shock of Marco’s first goal, Jean played heavy offense, but Marco was barely letting up, blocking him nearly every chance, stealing the puck away only for Jean to go chasing after him to get it back. He finally scored a goal, and then scored another, but he found himself actually winded. Marco was matching his moves at every turn and the friendly competition was turning out to be a lot tougher than Jean had expected. Just as he was getting comfortable at the level he’d have to play to get the last goal and win, Marco sailed past him again, dodging his attempts to get the puck back and scoring another goal.

In another few minutes, it was over, and Jean could barely wrap his mind around how the hell Marco beat him in _hockey_ of all things.

“I have a confession to make,” Marco said, breaking the silence in the locker room as they took off their pads and skates. ”Yeah?” Jean asked, looking up from the defeated pout he had had on his face for the past five minutes.

“Yeah,” Marco giggled, “I used to play hockey, if you hadn’t guessed that until now.”

“What?” Jean gasped, his gaze snapping up to Marco’s face, which held a sheepish look.

“Heh, yep,” Marco admitted, “I started learning how to play hockey when I was three, but then I saw the figure skaters and I told my mom I wanted to do that instead. My dad insisted I keep playing hockey too for a little while just to make sure I actually wanted to figure skate of all things. So I played hockey until I was ten, and then I quit hockey to focus completely on skating,” he shrugged, “I still play sometimes though. Whenever my dad’s team is missing a player, and if I’m free, I go and play with them.”

Well then. Jean stared dumbly up at him. Fuck. Now he felt really stupid. Marco had completely tricked him, and now he’d have to have Marco teach him how to figure skate. He vaguely felt his cheeks beginning to burn in embarrassment and he huffed slightly, turning away to finish taking his skates off.

“You’re not mad, are you?” Marco’s voice sounded after a few minutes, a bit hesitant and shy.

“No, I’m not,” Jean sighed in return, turning back to face Marco, “I mean, I suppose my pride is a little damaged, but hearing that you actually do play makes it a little less hurt,” he reassured, wanting to see the worried look off of Marco’s face as soon as possible. At that, Marco was smiling again and he gave a pleased nod.

“Good,” he breathed out, “I was a little worried.” Before Jean could ask him exactly what he was worried about, Marco jumped up, holding out his hand to Jean to take him to the figure skating room. With a dejected sigh, he accepted Marco’s hand, though he was really just excited about the few seconds he got to feel Marco’s hand in his own.

* * *

 

Figure skates were confusing, okay? Jean had no idea how Marco had laced his in less than a minute yet he was still stuck on one. They were so different from hockey skates that he found himself in a state of disorientation. They didn’t even lace the same way. Every time Jean tried to hook the laces where there were hooks instead of holes for the eyelets, the lace would slip out when he was doing the next side of the skate.

“Need some help?” Marco asked, coming forward to kneel in front of him, gently taking jean’s hands away from the skate, “I can tell you were getting frustrated,” he giggled, “You had your grumpy face on.”

“I don’t have a grumpy face,” Jean huffed automatically, crossing his arms in front of his chest.

“Yes you do. And you know it too,” Marco laughed, smiling up at him, “Now pay attention okay? I’m helping you now.” He pulled Jean’s leg out, his hands form on each side of Jean’s ankle, “You want a lot of support here when you skate,” he said, squeezing down on Jean’s ankle through the leather of the boot for emphasis, “It should feel like that. Nice and tight. If you want to get really low on your sit spins and have decent landing when you jump, the support needs to be here.” He started lacing up the skates after that and Jean could feel how tightly he was crossing the laces over his ankles, “Also,” Marco chirped, getting his attention away from the swift way his hands were working, “Be careful with the blades, okay?” he warned, “They’re longer than hockey blades, and thicker, so they make take getting used to.”

“I’m not going to fall,” Jean snapped, crossing his arms petulantly.

Needless to say, he fell as soon as he tried to go a few feet. The skates were heavier than his usual skates – even though hockey skates for forwards were typically lighter than other positions – and the leather was weird. They offered more flexibility than the hard plastic of hockey skates, but all the differences put together had Jean easily losing his balance.

“You alright?” he heard Marco behind him, skating over as he pushed himself up off the ice and tried to stand again, “Hey, easy.” Marco’s hands were on him then, on either side of his waist to balance him when he began to bobble on the ice, “Don’t push it, okay? I don’t want you falling down, as amusing as it is,” he teased. With trying to ignore the blush spreading to his cheeks from Marco’s hands on his waist and the teasing voice in the ear all he could manage was a weak ‘shut it,’ which Marco only laughed at again.

“It feels different, doesn’t it,” Marco commented behind him as he gently pushed Jean along the ice, “These are designed for a higher center of gravity. You have to be upright, have good posture. If you lean too much forward or backwards you’re going to fall for sure,” he explained, “I saw as soon as you got on the ice. You tried to lean too much. Hockey has a low center of gravity. You have to move fast and violently in unpredictable positions, but you probably already know that,” he giggled, “Still, stay upright, don’t do anything erratic. Just stand up straight and push out to the sides nice and slow. If you want to stop, just point your toes together.”

“What about a hockey stop?” Jean asked, knowing they had those in figure skating too, “Can’t I do that?”

“I wouldn’t advise it,” Marco said, “It’s the same, but different in a way. I’m going to let go now, okay?” Jean nodded, and he swore he felt Marco squeeze his sides before pulling away to skate past him, turning around to skate backwards and watch him. He tried to focus on what Marco told him to do, keeping his back straight, not leaning forwards or backwards, and pushing out to the sides to get some speed. He stumbled a few times, but after a few minutes, he got the hang of not falling down.

“Is your coach always so hard on you?” Jean asked when Marco skated up next to him to match his speed. He knew the questions was out of nowhere, but he still didn’t like the harsh way Levi had criticized Marco when, in Jean’s eyes, the freckled teen hadn’t messed up.

“Levi means well,” Marco said with a sigh, “And I messed up this morning. I had the entire program down and then I just… I messed up.”

“It didn’t look like you messed up,“ Jean blurted out, “You looked amazing out there.”

“Th-thanks,” Marco mumbled, his cheeks dyed pink at the compliment, “I wish all the judges thought like you. This would all be way easier if they did,” he said, laughing softly under his breath, “But Levi does mean well. He really wants me to win. He’s very selective about who he trains, and the fact that he’s stuck with me this long means he thinks I can get somewhere in this.”

“I think you can, if what I think holds any meaning to you,” Jean said seriously, “Even if you messed up today, it’s just one day. There’s always tomorrow, right?”

“Right,” Marco murmured, “Thanks, Jean. That’s really sweet of you,” he said, smiling over at Jean, “Want me to teach you how to spin?” he asked, skating out in front of Jean with an excited smile on his face.

“Seriously?” Jean asked, raising a brow at Marco, “Fine, fine. You can _try_ to teach me anyway,” he huffed. Marco grinned happily, coming forward to grab Jean’s hand, practically dragging him to the middle of the ice.

“Okay! So, watch me first, and then you can try,” he said enthusiastically, skating away a few feet. He started forward, gaining speed before he swept one leg out and fell into a spinning motion, his arms folded against his chest. Jean watched in awe. He couldn’t wrap his mind around how Marco managed to stay upright and not fall down from being so dizzy. After completing the spin, Marco skated back over to him, smiling happily, “Ready?”

“Uh… Sure,” Jean stammered, “What do I do?”

“Depending on how much speed you want, you can do two or three or four backwards crossover,” Marco said, “Keep your left foot inside, and then when you’ve got enough speed, make a half circle and put your right leg in front of you,” he explained, “Then you start spinning and you can just slowly put your other foot down, got it?”

“Uh… I think so?” Jean said, unsure about the idea. He skated a bit away from Marco and did as the freckled teen instructed, finally assuming a weak, slow spin. When he stopped, he immediately stumbled and he tried to right himself on the ice with the toe pick thing or whatever, but he felt himself falling.

Something firm pressed to his back, pushing him upright and holding him tight around the shoulders, stopping him from falling to the ice. It registered in his dizzy mind that Marco was probably holding him up, his chest pressed to Jean’s back, his strong arms holding him. He could feel how red his cheeks were from thinking about it, from thinking about how warm Marco was pressed against him.

“You okay there, Jean?” Marco asked worriedly, his voice right next to Jean’s ear, making him shudder a bit, which only made Marco tighten his grip.

“Y-yeah,” Jean squeaked, clearing his throat quickly, “I-I’m fine. Just fine… Just a little dizzy is all,” he quickly covered, glad Marco was behind him and couldn’t see the red painted over his cheeks.

“Take it easy then,” Marco said, guiding them over to the boards. He giggled as he skated them over, “This reminds me of when I used to be an ice dancer,” he laughed.

“An ice dancer?” Jean asked when his hands were holding tight to the edge of the rink, getting the last bit of dizziness out of his head, “That’s when they… Kinda just skate around together, right? And spin and stuff?”

“Exactly right,” Marco scoffed sarcastically, rolling his eyes and bumping Jean’s shoulder with his own, “Before I skated by myself, I started ice dancing with Krista Lenz- do you know her? She’s always around here volunteering any stuff.”

“You used to skate with Krista?” Jean sputtered, his eyes widening, “Seriously?” He could see it though. Krista and Marco would be a good dynamic. They were both too nice for their own good, smiled a lot, and were generally angels to everyone they met.

“Sure did! Until I was six or seven. We went out separate ways then,” he shrugged, “I still hang out with her all the time though! She’s my neighbor and she babysits my little brothers and sister, which really takes a lot of stress off my parents,” he explained before looking at the time on his phone, “We should probably go in. I’m starving and I have to meet my family for lunch,” he said,  “Let’s go!” Without even asking, he took Jean’s hand and led him off the ice, a teasing look in his eyes when Jean grumbled that he could’ve gotten off himself.

Back in the room, Jean curiously looked up when Marco was being quieter than usual. The other teen had already taken off, cleaned, and put away his skates. He was sitting to the side, fidgeting with the zipper on his jacket slightly.

“Okay there, Marco?” Jean finally broke the silence, finished pulling off the skates, taking the cloth Marco had given him to begin wiping them down.

“What?” Marco jumped, seemingly snapped out of whatever train of thought he was locked into, “O-Oh, yeah I’m fine,” he said quickly, “Just thinking.” Jean shrugged and went back to wiping melted ice off the skates, fitting on the skate guards as Marco had done to his own.

“Where do you want to go for our date?” Marco’s voice broke the silence, causing Jean to freeze in place and question his hearing and if he was having some sort of auditory hallucination.

“Um… Wh-what? “ He dumbly stated, looking up at Marco, quickly noticing the blush on his freckled cheeks.

“Y-you wanted to go on a date, didn’t you?” Marco mumbled shyly, picking nervously at a stray thread on his sleeve, “Unless you were joking-“

“Yes!” Jean blurted out, scooting slightly closer to Marco on the bench, “Fuck- I mean… _Yes_ , I want to go on a date with you,” he said, fumbling over his words, “Yes, definitely. If you want to. I mean- I suppose you want to, right?” He knew he probably sounded like a complete idiot – and looked like one too at that – but he was too excited that Marco had actually asked that he didn’t care about any of that.

“Y-yes, I’d um… I’d like that very much,” Marco said quietly, his cheeks a bright red and his voice shy, if not slightly anxious.

“Awesome!” Jean grinned, his smile widening when Marco finally got the courage to look over at him with his wide brown eyes and adorably flushed cheeks, “I’ll text you, yeah? I’ll see what movies are playing- You like movies right? And just tell me kinda food you like and we can get whatever you want,” he said quickly.

“Yes, I like movies,” Marco giggled, smiling sweetly, “I’ll look forward to your text then. Jean nodded eagerly, knowing the first thing he was going to do when he got home was look up show times.

* * *

 

**To: Marco**

_do u like superheroes? theres that new superhero movie out_

  

**From: Marco**

_YES! Definitely! Sounds amazing! There’s an Italian place near the movie theater, sound good? :D_

 

**To: Marco**

_totally. is tomorrow night good 4 u?_

**From: Marco**

_Yep! See you then, Jean! :3_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There was supposed to be more to this chapter, but I felt like pushing their date to chapter 4 instead. I've already started writing the next one so the wait won't be as long!
> 
> Thank you all so so much for over 1000 views and over 100 kudos! I was so excited when I realized I had that many hits! I never expected that many so thank you thank you so much <333
> 
> As always, comments and kudos are much appreciated! Thanks for reading!


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First, I am so, so sorry about how long this chapter took in retrospect! I was busy with school and then I was sick and too tired to even think about writing. But I'm back now and reminded how much fun this fic is to write for me so expect more much much sooner!
> 
> Enjoy! 
> 
> P.S. if you see any errors, please tell me! I didn't edit this one all too throughly.

_6:01_

With that, Jean was officially late and driving way over the speed limit through a residential area. He had told Marco he’d pick him up at six and drive them to dinner and then they’d go to the movie after. Of course, he fucked that up. He had spent forty-five minutes trying to decide what to wear, and another fifteen minutes stressing about whether he looked good or not before his mother told him what time it was and he bolted from the house.

Only to run back in seconds later when he realized he needed keys to drive. His mother gave him a look as she handed him the keys and he thanked her sheepishly.

He hoped Marco thought he looked nice enough. He hoped Marco would enjoy the date. He’d never taken a guy out on a date before, only with a few girls freshman year of high school and those were completely different. First, his mom had driven them. Second, they were both complete losers with terrible senses in everything from comedy to music to clothes. They also had braces, which made any attempt at kissing each other so weird that they stopped even trying, dissolving into a fit of giggles. Then one of his “dates” ended up becoming one of his best friends: Sasha. She was also completely and totally in love with Connie now, which was amusing yet incredibly annoying at the same time simply because he had lunch with them at school and they made his only thirty minute period of peace in school a nightmare.

He really hoped this date would be different. It was with Marco after all, and every time he was with Marco he was happy. Marco was so different than any of this other friends. He was open and accepting as well as sweet and kind. He smiled too much for his own good, but his smile was just so wonderful to look at. Jean realized he had slowed down to well below the speed limit just thinking about Marco and now he was seven minutes late. He shook any stray thoughts of his mind and focused on driving, focused on finding the way through Marco’s neighborhood without getting lost.

Finally he pulled up to Marco’s at ten after six where he hurriedly got out of the car and walked up to the door, rubbing his gloveless hands together against the early December cold. He rang the bell, anxiously rocking on his heels as he waited for the door to open. He heard barking as soon as he rang the bell ad moments later the door opened. Jean looked down at the small girl holding the door open. She had her light hair in two ponytails and was giving Jean a scrutinizing glare.

“Uh… Hey there, kiddo,” Jean said with a smile, awkward smile, “Is uh… Is Marco here?” He asked, peeking into the house in hopes of seeing Marco.

“You’re Marco’s boyfriend, right?” the girl asked, still staring at him with suspicious brown eyes.

“Uh,” Jean said dumbly, “Well I… I um… I’m his date right now,” he stammered, “But I’d like to be his… his boyfriend,” he said, tasting how the word felt on his tongue. With that, the little girl, stopped glaring at him and smiling wide, showing Jean a missing front tooth.

“Okay!” she chirped before she looked into the house, “Marco! Your boyfriend is here!” she called before Jean could stop her.

“What?” Marco voice rang out from inside and Jean heard footsteps on the stairs, “Lisa! What are you doing?” he huffed, going over quickly to scoop the girl into his arms and place her behind him, “What have I told you about answering the door to strangers?” he asked sternly.

“Not to,” Lisa mumbled, staring down at her bare feet, “But it’s your boyfriend! He’s not a stranger!”

“Did you know it was Jean before you answered the door?” Marco asked in a voice that reminded Jean exactly of what his mother used to sound like when she was scolding him as a child.

“No…” Lisa mumbled, looking dejected again, “I’m sorry, Marco,” she said, looking back up at him with big, apologetic brown eyes. Marco smiled softly, kneeling down in front of her.

“It’s alright now, okay?” he said gently, “Just remember next time. Or wait for me or mom or dad to get the door, right?”

“Right!” Lisa said, giving Marco a bright smile.

Marco smiled and pressed a kiss to her forehead, “Go upstairs with Wes and Riley now. Krista’s already here. I’m sure she’ll play dolls with you,” he said, adding excitement to his voice to egg her on.

“Okay!” Marco’s sister chirped, jumping up and down before she ran off to the stairs, “Have fun with Jean!” she called. Marco stood up sighing before he turned to Jean still waiting at the door, a sheepish smile on his face.

“Sorry about that,” he laughed, grabbing his coat off the rack next to the door before he walked out, closing the door quietly behind him, “Krista just got here to babysit since my parents are having a late night at the hospital tonight. So... Shall we?” He asked, an exited look in his eyes. Jean noted the way he was slightly bouncing on his heels and he smiled at Marco.

“You’re too cute,” he said before he could think about the words coming out of his mouth. He felt his cheeks heat up at the words he hadn’t intended to say, but he held his ground because what he said was true and he thought it so often that is was kind of freeing to be able to say it out loud. He thought that when he received Marco’s texts, when he was around Marco, when he thought of Marco... Maybe it was beginning to be a problem, but Marco’s own cheeks flushed and he looked at his feet shyly.

“Y-you look really nice too,” he said softly, commenting on Jean’s cleaned up apparel. Jean had been worried that he was too dressed down in his slim jeans, long-sleeved t-shirt without any sort of logos, and pair of less-beat up Converse than the usual, but Marco was wearing pretty much the same thing, albeit a bit classier.

“I looked up the directions to the place you mentioned,” Jean said as they got into the car, “Is it good? The reviews online were pretty great.” He started the car, peeking down at the directions he printed out every now and then since he was pretty lost in Marco’s neighborhood.

“It’s really good! I’ve been going there since I was a little kid,” he smiled, nostalgia shining in his eyes in the low light in the car, “They have really good lasagna and pizza and pasta,” he listed excitedly, “And the breadsticks are _amazing_.” Jean chuckled at that, driving guided by Marco’s instructions, the paper he printed forgotten.

The restaurant they finally parked at was small, but not tiny, and it had a warm atmosphere when they went inside. Within minutes, they were seated a small, cozy table near the back of the dining room, a basket of breadsticks and their respectively ordered sodas in front of them.

“This is a nice place,” Jean commented lamely, gazing across the room before his eyes landed back on Macro across from him.

“Isn’t it?” Marco chirped in response, reaching for his drink to take a sip, “My family comes here all the time. My little sister will only eat pasta here. She’s so picky.” Jean smiled at that. Marco got this look in his eyes when he talked about his siblings, something different than the shine they acquired when he was skating.

“You must be a pretty great big brother, huh?” Jean chuckled in response, reaching for one of the famed breadsticks Marco gushed about nearly the entire ride, “At least your sister adores you from what I’ve seen.”

“Heh, yeah I guess,” Marco said sheepishly, giving a shrug, “I mean, I think they’re, like, programmed to like me. My brothers idolize me, and so does my sister, and then she uses that against me to make me play dolls with her.” He sighed at that, but Jean could tell it was of the affectionate sort, “Do you not have any siblings Jean?”

“What? Me?” he stammered, not expecting the questions, “I have a half-brother from my mom’s first marriage. He’s way older than me. He’s got a job and a fiancée, and he lives up in Canada somewhere,” he shrugged, stopping talking when the waitress returned to take their order. Jean hadn’t exactly looked at the menu yet, so he quickly skimmed through it, deciding upon first glance to get some sort of chicken-thing with pasta. He was no connoisseur of Italian food, or any food at that.

“So do you live with your mother and... father?” Marco picked up the conversation again, his voice questioning slightly on the last bit.

“Nope,” Jean mumbled through a mouthful of breadstick, blushing a bit in embarrassment as he swallowed before continuing, “Just my mom. They went through some shit a few years ago and he moved out. They’re not divorced yet or anything, not until I graduate high school anyway.”

He didn’t like talking about his dad much, mostly because the guy was never really involved with him as a kid. It was always his mom. Every memory where something big happened, it would be his mother in the foreground, and his dad in the background or out of the picture. Elementary school “graduation?” His dad was at a meeting and couldn’t make it, though he made it to middle school graduation, which was a surprise considering. Most birthdays? Off at some meeting, sometimes in another country. He couldn’t hate him for that, just greatly dislike him. The man did give him genetics and supplied a lot of money for their family. He was some big bank executive or something, and apparently he wanted to run for congress, which was another reason he didn’t want to get divorced just yet. God forbid he gets a few people who don’t believe in divorce to vote for the opposition.

Jean had idolized his father as a toddler before he realized how important his mother was and that’s how it stayed. She was one of those overly involved moms who insisted on a goodnight kiss every night even though Jean didn’t go to bed when she did and, as he had protested several times, he was nearly eighteen years old for crying out loud.

“What about your parents?” he questioned, getting off of his thought about his dad, “What do they do?” Obviously, Marco’s family was tight-knit, but Jean had never met his parents or anything.

“Oh! Well, my dad’s a neurosurgeon at the big hospital a little ways north of here, and my mom has been through a lot of positions at the hospital. She was an ER nurse when she met my dad, and then by the time they got married she was head nurse in the ER. She’s also been a surgical assistant sometimes when the hospital is short during big, emergency surgeries,” he explained happily, taking another breadstick from the basket with an overly-excited look in his eyes, “They have a lot of long hours, so often times I’m either babysitting or skating at night, while trying to squeeze some studying in. Krista babysits sometimes too, like now,” he trailed off, smiling softly across the table at Jean.

“So your parents aren’t home a lot?” Jean asked, a sympathetic tone to his voice.

“Oh no! They are a lot! Some nights they have to stay late at the hospital, but they almost always come home for dinner and they usually have weekends open! My dad plays hockey on Saturdays with his friends and takes my little brothers to hockey practice. My little sister and I go to ballet, and my mom spends times with either or friend or some of us. She’s really nice like that, always trying to distribute time between all four kids equally,” he laughed, shaking his head, “It’s sort of an unspoken system. And, of course, whenever I have a competition, everyone comes to watch-“

Jean actually a bit of animosity towards the waitress when she came back with their food, causing Marco to stop talking. He figured he could listen to Marco talk for hours and never get sick of the smooth tone of his voice, the way he emoted with his hands when he spoke, and how clearly you could tell what he was thinking when he spoke by the way his eyes lit up. Thoughts of the waitress’s interruption were vanquished when his eyes landed on the food and he remembered how hungry he was. It was quiet between them as they started eating, making only a few off-hand comments about how good the food was. Jean decided this was his new favorite restaurant, and it nothing to do with the fact Marco was sitting across from him; nope, nothing to do with that at all.

“Speaking of competitions,” Marco said after a little while, breaking Jean out of his food-induced trance to pick up the conversation where it left off, “I have a competition next Saturday! You should come watch!” he smiled before his expression dimmed a bit and he looked away with a sheepish look on his face, “I mean, assuming you don’t have any other plans or anything, but if you do, by all means, don’t let me interfere, okay?” He said the words so quickly Jean had to wait a moment before responding.

“What? What, no,” he said quickly, “No, I’ve got nothing planned as far as I know,” he said with a grin, sitting back in his chair, “I’d love to come watch you skate.” Marco perked up again, his smile bright and back on his face as he looked at Jean with excited disbelief.

“Really?” he gasped, “Thank you, Jean!” he said, making Jean wonder exactly what he was thankful for, “It’s not really a big competition or anything,” he continued, “Just something that Levi signed me up for to warm up for senior nationals in a few months, but it’ll be fun all the same. I promise!”

“Heh, I’m sure it will,” Jean chuckled softly, giving Marco a soft smile. Seeing the other teen so excited by just the promise of his presence at one of his skating shows made Jean question he exactly he had not seen how much Marco valued his attention every moment, “You look like a little kid when you smile like that,” he laughed before he could help himself. Marco looked confused at that, his expression showing how he didn’t know whether to be happy or not about that, “It’s not bad! I bet you were a cute little kid,” he grinned.

“I um... I’ve been told that,” Marco mumbled, blushing lightly.

“Well, I’ll just have to see for myself then, yeah? I’m sure you’ve got some baby photos hidden somewhere in your house?”

“More like displayed in plain sight for anyone who walks in,” Marco laughed, shaking his head, “My mom is very into documenting every single moment,” he explained, “Literally, _everything_.”

They talked about nothing and everything for a while longer, finishing up dinner in the mean time before the waitress came back. Much to Marco’s obvious chagrin, they turned down desert for the favor of candy at the movies and, after paying the bill, which Jean insisted on doing, they headed out back to Jean’s car to drive to the movie theater.

The theater wasn’t very packed considering it was a Sunday night, but there was still a large group of people, mostly teenaged girls and their less than enthused boyfriends, waiting in line for a chick flick that opened that past weekend. Jean led Marco past them, feeling sympathy for the looks of pure, disgruntled distress on the boyfriends’s faces. He realized when they got to the open ticket window that he was holding Marco’s hand in his own that he had absently grabbed when they were avoiding the people. Marco’s palm felt warm and soft in his own, and he certainly enjoyed how their hands fit together. He wasn’t inclined at all to let go, and as long as Marco obviously had no qualms with hand holding, that was fine with Jean.

Marco insisted on buying the popcorn, soda and candy for the movie, and Jean reluctantly let him. He really had wanted to treat Marco, but Marco had such a precious look on his face when he asked to buy the candy that Jean couldn’t say no.

“Okay so I got M&Ms and gummy bears and Swedish Fish,” Marco listed off as they walked down the aisle to some seats that weren’t too close to the screen, yet not too far away, “And Twizzlers too! I used to hate Twizzlers, but I guess my tastes changed because I literally go through one of those big bags they sell at grocery stores in a week,” he giggled.

“Awesome,” Jean grinned in response, taking the stuffed bag of popcorn from Marco’s loaded arms before he could drop it, settling it on his lap for them both to reach.

The movie started soon after. They had just made the time and luckily got to skip all the previews, or unluckily in Marco’s case because apparently he _loved_ watching previews. After that tidbit of information, they dissolved into quiet as the movie’s sound filled the theater. Explosions expected in every superhero movie started not even ten minutes in, and Jean didn’t miss the way Marco jumped in surprise when the loud sound filled their ears.

Halfway through the movie, the popcorn tub was empty aside for a few kernels and Jean was quickly going through the bag of Swedish Fish Marco had bought. The movie was at some sappy romance part between the hero and the main female character and Jean started to zone out a bit then, his attention focusing on Marco’s free hand next to him. His fingers itched to take Marco’s hand no matter how cliché and dorky the action was. He focused his attention on the screen to seem nonchalant as he reached over to thread his fingers between Marco’s. He felt the freckled teen jump in surprise at the contact and when he looked over he was met with Marco’s eyes, wide and illuminated by the light from the movie screen. Jean gave him a tiny smile, which Marco returned with a happy grin, squeezing his hand gently before he looked back at the screen.

 _Fuck me he’s_ perfect.

Finally as the movie ended, Marco shifted in his seat, squeezing Jean’s hand again as he looked over at him, “Any Swedish Fish left?” he asked hopefully. Jean had left several in the bag, thinking Marco may want some, and he was sure glad he did as he handed the bag over to Marco, who sat back to eat them, insisting on watching the credits. Something about if you don’t watch the credits, you’re disrespecting the people who made the movie by not acknowledging them. He had a point, but jean would’ve sat through them with him whether he had a reason or not. Anything to spend a second longer slightly pressed to Marco’s shoulder hand-in-hand.

“That was _sooo_ good,” Marco said excitedly as they walked out together, slightly swinging their clasped hands between their bodies as they walked, “I wish we didn’t have to wait like three years for a sequel though,” he huffed, “But then you can see that with me too!  Promise, okay? Promise to see the sequel with me!”

“Alright, alright!” Jean laughed, grinning up at him, “I’ll see the sequel with you, you goof.” Marco looked absolutely elated at that.

The ride home was spent in calm silence, though Jean had regrettably let go of Marco’s hand in order to drive. He pulled up to Marco’s house slowly, wanting to draw out their time together as long as possible. He put the car in park. He turned off the quiet radio. He pulled his key from the ignition. He sat back in his now-cooling heated seat, not saying anything.

“Um,” Marco broke the silence, “Th-thank you for taking me out,” he murmured, staring down at his lap. Jean could see the blush on his freckled cheeks even in the low light of the street lamp outside. A thought crossed his mind, one he had had about Marco so many times before as simply a hyperbole, but now it was relevant.

 _I really want to fucking kiss him_. The words flashed through his mind over and over, but his mouth wouldn’t work. How could he say them without being awkward? _Screw being awkward_ , he thought. Marco wouldn’t care.

“Can I kiss you?” he blurted out,  feeling his own cheeks suddenly aflame, his palms sweaty where his fingers were curled into his jeans over his thighs. Marco’s head shot up from where he was looking down, his eyes wide and round. Jean could tell by that look that Marco had probably never kissed anyone, not even a girl like Jean had.

“I-I’ve-“ he started, but Jean waved his hand, cutting him off.

“That doesn’t matter,” he said softly, leaning closer across the console in the middle of their seats, “Just say yes, okay? Just say yes, and I’ll kiss you. If you want me too...” He saw Marco’s Adam’s apple move; he almost thought he could hear him swallow thickly in the silence of the car.

And then he nodded. Marco nodded.

And then Jean leaned forward when Marco did.

And then he pressed his lips to Marco’s and they were kissing.

And fuck if it wasn’t the best thing Jean had ever felt. He instinctively brought up a hand, cupping Marco’s overly warm cheek in his palm as he let his eyes slip shut, gently moving his lips against Marco’s less-responsive pair. Slowly, Marco started to kiss back, copying Jean’s movements, his lips moving slowly as he leaned into Jean’s palm, tilting his head to the side in just the right angle to make the kiss easier with the awkward position they held over the console o f the car, Jean’s seatbelt still tugging at his chest.

When Marco started to pull away, Jean missed the warm softness of his lips immediately, but by the look on Marco’s face, he knew it wouldn’t be the last kiss he shared with the other boy.

“That was... um,” Marco stammered, his cheeks still bright with color, “Th-that was really nice,” he whispered, fiddling with the buttons on his jacket sleeve.

“Yeah,” Jean whispered back, “More than really nice...” He trailed off, swallowing hard, “Will you... Oh God, this is going to sound horrible and awkward and-“

“Can I call you my boyfriend?” Marco cut him off, asking exactly what Jean was going to say before his nerves attacked.

“Hell yes,” Jean breathed, his words rushing out with a relieved sigh, “Yes, yes, ten times yes,” he said quickly, giving Marco a grin before he reached for his seatbelt to release the latch, “Come on. I’ll walk you to the door,” he said, knowing that was boyfriend-y and just plain gentlemanly. Marco gave him a bright smile and nodded, unbuckling his own seat belt and getting out of the car.

The walk up Marco’s steps to his front porch was slow yet fast, and Jean stood facing Marco in front of his door.

“Thank you again, Jean,” Marco said softly. Jean almost missed the words from how he was staring at the light from the porch lamp shining over Marco. He looked like a fucking angel or something.

“Don’t mention it,” he replied, stepping a bit closer, “That’s what boyfriends are for, right?” he asked, a teasing grin on his face. Marco rolled his eyes, his shoulders relaxing a bit. He leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss to Jean’s lips, his movements tentative in an endearing way.

Jean drove home that night feeling like some middle school girl, the memory of Marco’s lips pressed to his own still fresh in his mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter had so much more planned for it but as it exceed 4000 words, I didn't put it in, instead moving it to the next chapter, which will be out way faster than this one!
> 
> As always, any comments, views, and kudos are so appreciated1 Thank you for reading and thank you for sticking around after I took forever to update! (sorry again about that ;n;)
> 
> Most coming soon!


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! The crushing guilt I am feeling for taking so long is not communicable through words. These past few weeks have been incredibly stressful for me. With school and sickness and family dominating everything, when I had free time, all I wanted to do was sleep.
> 
> But I am back now! I am going to stick to my efforts to push out a chapter either every week or every two weeks. Chapters will always be posted on either Friday, Saturday, or Sunday.
> 
> Once again, so sorry for the long wait! Thanks to those of you who have stuck with me!
> 
> Without further ado… Chapter 5!

Spending probably the best evening of his life with Marco and then not seeing him for close to a week was akin to agony for Jean. His schedule was swamped with school, hockey, and homework, and the same went for Marco except for skating rather than hockey. He saw him maybe a few minutes during the week at the rink if their practices happened to cross over. All he wanted to do was kiss him, or hold his hand, or just talk to him, but all they could manage was a greeting before either one of them had to go onto the ice or go get changed or something. It was aggravating, and if not for the invention of text messaging, Jean figured he’d have gone insane by now.

But, thankfully, texting was a thing, and Jean was sure he would use up all his data texting Marco in the next two weeks at this rate. He texted Marco between classes – sometimes in class when he could get away with it – during lunch at school, when he was doing homework, before he went onto the rink for practice; pretty much any time he had a free moment, his phone was in his hands and he was texting away, which didn’t go unnoticed by several people, including his mother and his friends.

“Hey Jean!” Sasha slid up next to him at lunch on Friday as he was texting Marco, a bag of chips in her hand, “Who ya textin’?” she asked, biting into a chip with an obscene crunch.

“What? N-no one,” Jean stammered quickly, shoving his phone into his pocket, looking back to his untouched lunch in front of him. He’d much rather text Marco than eat school food after all. He had planned to go to Marco’s after school. Marco wanted him to sleep over and have dinner with him and then go to his skating show the next morning, which sounded more perfect than Jean would admit. He was nervous about meeting Marco’s parents though considering they were “dating” now, for lack of a better term. Jean never liked that term; it sounded kind of silly to him, but he had bigger problems on his hands at the moment other than what to call his relationship. He wasn’t hiding from his friends necessarily; he just didn’t want them to bother him about his relationship with Marco.

“Aw, come on!” Sasha whined, draping herself over Jean’s shoulder, trying to get to his pocket to see his phone, “Just tell me! You’ve been staring at that stupid phone all week with this dopey, love-struck look on your face.”

“Have not!” Jean sputtered, trying to shove her away to no avail.

“You kinda have, dude,” Connie commented from across the table where he and Reiner had just sat down with their lunches, “What, got a hot date or something?”

“Shut the hell up!” Jean snarled, managing to get Sasha off of him by threatening to take her chips away when she left them unguarded.

“You’re blushing,” Reiner commented nonchalantly, looking up with a grin when Jean sent him a glare.

“What does it matter anyway?” Jean retorted, “What if I was texting my mom or something?” he said, knowing his comeback was pathetic.

“Jean, I’ve known you since you were five. We all know you’re a giant momma’s boy, but you’ve never gotten that goo-goo eyed look on your face when talking to her,” Connie snorted, which procured a laugh from Reiner.

“It’s none of your business,” Jean huffed again, picking up his plastic fork to poke at the congealed macaroni and cheese on a section of his tray.

“Fine, fine,” Sasha huffed, swinging her legs over the side of the bench to stand up, waiting for Connie to do the same, “Con and I are gonna go study in the library so he doesn’t almost fail English again,” she teased. Connie attempted to sputter out something to protest her comment, but he couldn’t really manage anything and walked out with Sasha, attempting to take her chips. When they were out of sight, Jean pulled out his phone again, quickly reading five new texts from Marco.

 

**From: Marco**

_I have soup for lunch today! :3_

 

**From: Marco**

_My soup is cold :(_

 

**From: Marco**

_My French teacher let me use the microwave in the teachers’ room! ^w^_

 

**From: Marco**

_Bertholdt says ‘hi’ by the way! I don’t know if Reiner is with you, but tell him if he is, okay? ^u^_

 

**From: Marco**

_I miss youuuu :(((_

 

Jean smiled again at the messages, quickly moving to reply only to have his phone plucked from his hands by Reiner who had been watching him the whole time. Reiner smirked at the messages and, before Jean could protest, typed out a message, handing the phone back to Jean.

“What the fuck, dude!” Jean hissed, snatching his phone away from Reiner to quickly look at what he had sent

 

**To: Marco**

_hey bertl! –reiner_

 

“So you and Marco, huh?” Reiner said nonchalantly, though a smirk was on his face as he bit into a protein bar, “I would’ve guessed. The way you’re always looking around for him whenever we’re at practice. It’s kinda cute,” he teased.

“Shut up,” Jean grumbled back, feeling his cheeks heating up slightly, “Was it that obvious?”

“Only to me,” Reiner shrugged, “Well, me and Bertl.”

“You and Bertholdt,” Jean nodded in response before he narrowed his eyes slightly and looked up at Reiner, “You and... Bertholdt?”

“No shit, dude,” Reiner laughed, “Bertl and I have been together since freshman year. ‘Course, we don’t go to the same school, and Bertl’s really shy about that stuff, and I’d rather not have the team on my ass for being a fag,” he listed off, crumpling the wrapper of his protein bar in his fist, “But, other than that, yeah, it’s good.” Jean gave him a small smile, nodding in understanding. He knew that the guys on the hockey team weren’t very accepting and, as Marco’s coach had said before, they caused trouble for the figure skaters at the rink too.

“Yeah, well,” Jean sighed, “I’ve never... Done this before,” he stammered, “And- _fuck_ , man – Marco’s just so perfect and-“ He cut himself off with some sort of flustered groaning noise, pressing his forehead to the heels of his palms. Across the table, Reiner chuckled and roiled his eyes.

“You’ve got it _bad_ , Jean,” he laughed, reaching across the table to nudge Jean’s arm, “You won’t screw up, okay? Just be yourself- well, actually, knowing you, don’t be yourself,” he joked. Laughing loudly at the disgruntled look that came over Jean’s face, Reiner stood from the table as the bell rang for class, “See ya at practice, Jean,” he called, leaving Jean at the table with pink cheeks and his untouched lunch.

* * *

 

A sense of déjà vu overcame Jean as he walked up the steps to Marco’s porch again. He rang the bell, rocking on his heels slightly as the sound of dogs barking came from inside again. The door flew open a moment later and Jean smiled immediately to see Marco standing there, slightly stooped over from where he had his hand across the collar of a fluffy, golden lab.

“Hey Jean,” he said happily, grinning up at Jean as he pulled the dog back inside with a grunt, “Sorry about her,” he giggled sheepishly, stepped aside to usher Jean in, closing the door behind them before the dog could get out. As soon as Marco let go of the dog’s collar, it went for Jean, starting by sniffing from his shoes up to his legs, tongue lolling out to the side.

“Hey,” Jean finally greeted, grinned at Marco as he sidestepped the over-excited dog to move to the coat rack, shrugging out of his jacket and toeing off his shoes. By the time he had hung his coat and turned back to the Marco, the dog had trotted off somewhere else, leaving them alone. Shyly, Marco walked over to him, staring at his feet before he finally threw his arms around Jean, squeezing him to his chest in a tight, warm hug.

“I’ve missed you so much,” he said, his voice muffled slightly in the hug. Jean was a bit taken aback at the sudden embrace, but once he recovered from the shock, he had no qualms with wrapping his arms around Marco as well. That’s what couples did, right? Hugged and stuff? They stood there for a bit, just wrapped in each other’s arms in the hall in front of the door. It was calm, and warm, and Jean would’ve stayed like that forever had the tapping of nails on the floor alerted them to the dog’s return.

“Well, I guess I should introduce you,” Marco laughed, pulling away, but not before he pressed a quick kiss to Jean’s cheek. He crouched down next to the dog, ruffling its ears and pressing a kiss to its forehead, “This is Lily,” he cooed, talking in one of those voices people used when speaking to animals, “She’s barely out of puppyhood,” he giggled, “We rescued her when my little sister got more rambunctious and Spot got too old to have kids jumping on him,” he explained, “Come on! You can pet her. She’s a _giant_ attention hog.” Jean grinned and rolled his eyes at the childish look on Marco’s face, kneeling down next to Marco to let the excited dog lick his hand before she tried to lick his entire face. He decided then he already liked being at Marco’s house.

After Marco insisted Jean introduce himself to Marco’s other dog, the one in the photo he had sent, they gathered snacks and went upstairs to Marco’s room. Like the rest of the rooms in Marco’s house, and Marco’s house as a whole, his room was rather spacious to an extent that some parts of it looked awkwardly empty. The walls were sparsely decorated with a few posters and painted a light beige color.

Marco walked over the television, setting the snacks he brought on the floor before he looked over to Jean, “Wanna play some video games?” he asked, “I mean... I’m not very good,” he admitted, “But we could try!”

Jean laughed at that, “Yeah, okay. Let’s play then,” he agreed, walking over to sit on the floor while Marco pulled the game console and controllers out. They decided on Mario Kart, most because that was one of the only two player games Marco owned and because Jean was beast at Mario Kart.

Marco clearly wasn’t, and by the time they had gone through ten different tournaments or so, Marco tossed his controller to the side and flopped onto Jean’s crossed legs, huffing childishly.

“I give up,” he grumbled, pouting up at Jean, though his gaze wasn’t malicious at all. Jean laughed and shook his head, setting his controller aside to ruffle Marco’s hair.

“You just need more practice is all. We can play again if you-“

“No,” Marco cut him off, “Never again. The game is probably rigged anyway,” he grumbled, crossing his arms over his chest.

“You’re cute when you pretend to be grumpy,” Jean teased, leaned down to claim Marco’s lips before the other boy could protest. He hadn’t meant to kiss Marco so suddenly – well, he had wanted to – but he hadn’t meant to. He pulled away quickly unsure of his actions only to see Marco staring up at him with wide brown eyes, his lips slightly parted.

“Why’d you stop?” he asked quietly after a long, awkwardly silent moment.

“I-I um... I-I didn’t know if you... um-“

“Shh,” Marco shushed, sitting up from Jean’s legs, a small smile on his lips, “You’re fine. You’re fine, everything’s fine,” he murmured, leaning to rest their foreheads together, “You’re my boyfriend. It’s kinda your job to kiss me, don’t you think?” Jean opened his mouth to respond, but no words came out, so he closed his mouth again, nodding dumbly at Marco. After another moment he hesitantly leaned forward, pressing his slightly chapped lips to Marco’s. The kiss was quickly returned this time, and Marco brought his arms up to lazily drape them over Jean’s shoulders, kissing him softly and sweetly.

Feeling awkward with his hands just resting in his lap, he moved to wrap one arm around Marco’s waist, the other hand resting on his hip. It was still weird, still an unknown embrace, but Jean didn’t dislike it. With that thought in mind, he let himself get lost in the feeling of kissing Marco, which was pretty easy. Marco’s movements were shy and hesitant like that first time they had kissed, but he seemed more comfortable now on the floor of his own room. The kisses were short though, which was fine for Jean, and he assumed was fine with Marco considering they had both never done this before.

When Marco finally pulled away first, though he kept his arms draped around Jean’s neck, his cheeks were slightly flushed, his lips slightly red, and Jean just wanted to kiss him again and again.

But there was time for that in the future, and Marco knew that too apparently since he scooted forward a bit to pull Jean into a hug rather than kiss him again, “I really like kissing you,” he mumbled against Jean’s neck. Jean could feel his warm breath, and lips brushing his skin ever so slightly, and he just wanted Marco’s lips back on his own.

But, there was time for that too in the future, and he was certainly content with holding Marco. Marco fit into his arms nicely despite their different statures. Marco was warm where he was pressed again him. Marco’s hair smelled fantastic too.

Yeah, Jean definitely didn’t have any problems with this.

“I like kissing you too,” he said back after a bout of silence he feared was too long, but he felt Marco smile against his neck and he knew he hadn’t been too late.

Their comfortable embrace was interrupted by the door sounding downstairs, dogs barking, and the voices of both children and adults talking. Marco pulled away with a sigh that turned into a yawn as he stretched his arms of his head, “Well, sounds like everyone else is home. We should go downstairs,” he said, letting his arms flop back down to his sides before he stood up, reaching out a hand for Jean to take, which he did without even thinking about it.

As he walked down the stairs, Jean was suddenly nervous. Like the nervous people are in those times in movies or on T.V. shows. The “meet the parents” kind of nervous feeling he thought only existed in television. It was fucking real all right, and he had to force himself to keep going down the stairs, his palms clammy.

“You okay?” Marco asked when they got to the bottom of the stairs, “Don’t be nervous, you goof. You’re fine.” He kissed Jean’s cheek before he even had a chance to say anything back and all but pulled him into the living room.

Two boys, who Jean assumed were Marco’s brothers, were on the couch, school bags dumped on the floor, which the over-excited lab was quickly sniffing through. Jean could hear the sound of Marco’s sister’s voice coming from the kitchen and he suddenly felt out of place, lonely even. His house was never this loud and warm and welcoming. It was always just he and his mom and his mother’s cat. He liked home, but something about being in the presence and workings of Marco’s family made his heart race in a good way.

Marco’s brothers were almost scarily identical to Marco himself – though one of them had lighter colored hair. The longer Jean observed them and talked to them, he realized they were way different. The older of the two was named Wes and he was fourteen, still in middle school, fiercely devoted to hockey, soccer, and video games. The other one – Riley – was only twelve, extremely hyper, also a hockey player, and apparently obsessed with dragons, which he had tried to tell Jean about in full detail before Marco told him to go wash up for dinner.

In only a few more minutes, they were all seated around a dining table and Jean was even more nervous than before. Marco’s father was a bit intimidating to look at considering he was taller than Marco, which meant he was taller than Jean, and his frame was broad, but he had the same eyes Marco did, warm and gentle, though not as much as Marco’s. Jean realized quickly he was being stupid as soon as Marco’s parents started talking. Marco’s father had introduced himself, as did Marco’s mother, and they had insisted Jean call them by first name, Roy and Maria. They were nice to a point where Jean had to wonder if they were even real people or just robots that were programed to be kind, but then he mentally berated himself for thinking like such a douche.

“So, Jean,” Marco’s father spoke up after a bout of questions about school and work and hobbies, “Marco says you play hockey?”

“What? Oh... Um, yeah,” Jean stammered after he swallowed a bite of mashed potato, “At the same rink Marco skates at,” he clarified, though he bet they already knew that if Marco had told them in the first place.

“That’s great,” he continued, giving Jean a smile, “Some of the other doctors and I play. Trying to relive the other glory days of college,” he chuckled, which made Jean crack a smile, “What position do you play?” With that, the conversation veered into talk about hockey with Marco cutting in sometimes merely to tease Jean about various things, which made his ears go red every time. He had no idea how Marco managed to do that; it was like he could perfect pinpoint Jean’s weaknesses and exploit them in the cutest ways, so it was impossible to be mad at him.

“I am so glad Marco met a nice boy like you, Jean,” Marco’s mother gushed as they were finish up with dinner, a relieved smile on her lips, “With all the trouble he has in school with other kids, it’s so nice to know there are decent young men like you-“

“Mom.” Marco cut her off, his voice set into a deep, warning tone that Jean had never heard before, “That’s enough.” Jean was a bit shocked to hear Marco sounding like that, and his interest in the topic was piqued even more. Was Marco messed with at school? It seemed kind of preposterous, but the more Jean considered it, the more he realized how plausible it could be. Levi had said something about kids at the rink messing with the figure skaters, so why wouldn’t school kids do the same thing? He frowned, disliking the thought of Marco being sad or pushed around for even a second. With that, he decided he’d definitely bring it up later in private and hopefully Marco would talk to him.

After dinner and some fantastic pie that Marco’s mom made, Jean found himself sitting on the couch in front of the television next to Marco while Marco’s brothers bickered over which movie they wanted to watch. Marco had explained to him that Friday nights were movie nights and that his brothers constantly fought about which movie to watch.

“This one Marco! Let’s watch this one!” The younger of Marco’s two brothers held up a DVD case, a bright, braces-adorned smile on his face.

“ _The Ring_?” Jean questioned, “You guys into horror?”

“Yep!” they said in unison, quickly putting the DVD into the player and grabbing the remote before flopping onto the couch next to Marco. Jean looked over at Marco then to see him looking hesitant and a bit pale, “You okay?” he asked quietly, gently placing his hand on top of Marco’s.

Marco gave a short nod, swallowing hard, “I’m okay,” he said, giving Jean a wan smile, turning over his hand under Jean’s to lace their fingers together, “I’m just... Not a big fan of horror movies,” he admitted sheepishly. Jean blinked at him before he realized what that meant for him as Marco’s boyfriend. It meant he could comfort Marco when he was scared. He had an excuse to wrap an arm around him and all that.

“Don’t worry,” he said, trying to keep the excitement from his voice as he squeezed Marco’s hand, “I’m here for you, okay?” Marco blinked for a second before he smiled softly and nodded, squeezing Jean’s hand back in response.

Jean was good with horror. All his friends loved horror movies. They had horror movie marathons all throughout middle school, but deemed them “lame” in high school and traded them for staying up until 2 a.m. gaming. Obviously, Marco couldn’t stand the genre, even though he knew it was just a movie. Not even fifteen minutes into the movie, the freckled boy had already let out a shaky, girlish scream and buried his face in Jean’s shoulder, squeezing his hand so tight that Jean feared his fingertips might lose circulation. It was cute to be honest; the way Marco was burying his face in Jean’s shoulder, trying to scoot as far away from the television as possible. Jean took the opportunity he was given and wrapped an arm around Marco’s shoulders, drawing him close into an awkward, side embrace. That seemed to help a bit and Marco started to peek up at the movie after a little while, only to yelp and return to his scared position practically on top of Jean whenever something he deemed “scary” happened.

It was probably the most adorable horror movie experience of Jean’s life, which made him recollect on the fact that he had associated the word adorable with a horror movie.

“Is it over?” Marco’s hushed whisper floated up to his ear. Jean looked down to see wide, slightly terrified brown eyes peering up at him. He gave Marco an easy smile, carding his fingers through Marco’s mussed hair.

“Yeah, sweetheart, it’s over,” he laughed before his cheeks suddenly were lit aflame at his own choice of words. He had never imagined he would be someone to use pet names of all things, and he didn’t even know if Marco liked the name.

Well, according to Marco’s slightly flushed cheeks and the tiny smile on his lips, it was obvious a moment later that he liked it.

“Sweetheart?” Marco echoed quietly, looking up at him again.

“I... I-I um,” Jean stammered quickly, “S-sorry that just slipped out,” he tried to explain, his voice rising a bit, though he deemed that okay since Marco’s parents and siblings had already gone upstairs, “I dunno... C-can I call you that?” he mumbled, staring down at their clasped hands, dragging his thumb over Marco’s knuckles several times to try and calm himself.

“Yeah,” Marco whispered after a moment, “You can call me that... But now I have to think of a cute name for you,” he said with a decisive nod and a sweet smile. Jean snorted, rolled his eyes but nodded nonetheless, deciding it was only fair after all.

With that, Marco declared it was time for bed and practically pulled Jean upstairs. Jean knew Marco usually went to bed early from his text messages – around nine or ten at night – so they were about two hours off his schedule. He could tell Marco was tired, but he wasn’t the type of person to be grumpy when tired. Rather, he was quiet when tired, constantly yawning quietly or rubbing at his eyes, blinking blearily after he would do so.

Was there a single thing Marco did that wasn’t positively adorable?

Jean headed into the bathroom to change into the pajamas he brought with him and brush his teeth for bed while Marco used the other bathroom down the hall. By the time he finished, Marco was already back in the room, curled up under several blankets.

“Uh... Hey, Marco?” He asked dumbly into the already darkened room, the only light coming from the night-light Jean had briefly made fun off, “Where should I sleep?” He was alright with the couch, the floor, an air mattress, or next to Marco, but he didn’t want to just invite himself into Marco’s _bed_ like that.

Marco blinked at him from the bed before raising an arm and patting the space in next to him, “Right here,” he mumbled, his voice muffled slightly by a pillow, “There’s-“ he paused to yawn, “plenty of room,” he finished, patting the bed again for emphasis, “C’mon... Wanna cuddle.”

“O-Oh.” Jean swallowed, looking at the space beside Marco. It was big enough; Marco’s bed _was_ a queen size. What was there to be nervous about? Shrugging of the uneasy feeling, he padded over and slid under the neatly arranged blankets next to Marco. Almost immediately, Marco scooted closer to him, his eyes not opening through the action. An arm was draped over Jean’s body as Marco blindly groped around to try and get Jean closer.

“You really do like cuddling, don’t you?” Jean said in a hushed whisper, a smile on his face as he inched closer to Marco.

“Mm... Yeah.” Marco’s muffled reply came after a long moment of shifting blankets and arranging limbs

It was quiet for a moment before Jean remembered the topic Marco had stopped at dinner and suddenly the dregs of sleep starting to invade his mind were pushed away as curiosity came back to him, “Hey, Marco?” he asked quietly, earning a hum of response that told him to ask what he wanted, “What did your mom mean? About... Kids at school...?” He trailed off, feeling slightly tense as he waited for Marco’s answer. The room was quiet for minute or two, the only sound being that of the clock on the wall ticking away. For a second, Jean though Marco had fallen asleep or something.

“Kids can be cruel,” Marco finally answered back, his voice small, “They don’t... _appreciate_ my... sexuality,” he said slowly, “Or my openness in being gay,” he sighed heavily, “They do what kids do... Name-calling, taunts, that kind of stuff... It’s no big deal though. It’s mostly the guys. The girls I know all like me,” he trailed off.

“It’s not okay,” Jean said immediately, his hold around Marco’s tightening, “It _is_ a big deal.” He felt angry just hearing this. The nerves of some kids to just do that to someone like Marco.

Then, he realized, that was what _he_ was afraid of, what _Reiner_ was afraid of; coming out, being open to the public, to the team, to the school, to everyone. He hadn’t thought of it as being afraid until now, but hearing the tone of Marco’s voice made him subconsciously believe that, yes, perhaps there was something to be afraid of.

“I stick around with Bertholdt a lot,” Marco continued quietly, “He’s, well, _massive_ so no one really wants to make any sort of... _physical_ threat,” he shrugged.

“Why the hell are you being so nonchalant?” Jean asked, some of his anger bleeding into his tone. He noticed his mistake as soon as Marco tensed in his arms and he quickly started to stroke up and down the other’s boy’s back, ”Sorry... Sorry, I didn’t meant to snap at you,” he whispered, “I’m just... Fuck, Marco,” he said somewhat desperately, “I don’t even want to imagine you being picked on or anything like that-“

“Then don’t,” Marco cut him off tiredly, “When I’m not at school, when I’m on the ice, when I’m with you, I don’t even think about it. It bothers me, sure, but it’s high school... It’s not the rest of my life. Only a few more months and then it’ll be over.”

“Okay,” Jean sighed, “Alright, okay... I understand just- Just come to me, okay? If you’re hurt or you need a hug or anything... I’m here,” he promised.

“I know,” Marco responded simply, his voice growing sleepy once more, “Good night, Jean.”

“Good night... Sweetheart,” Jean whispered a moment too long later. He was sure Marco had already fallen asleep, but as his eyes adjusted to the dark, he could make out a content smile on Marco’s lips and, with that image in his mind, he easily fell asleep too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alrighty! Thus ends chapter five, which was originally part of chapter four before it got too long. Chapter six will be in the works as of tomorrow! Right now though, I need some sleep ouo;
> 
> Comments, bookmarks, and kudos are so so so so appreciated! Thank you for almost 3000 hits and over 200 kudos! I am so happy <3
> 
> (I checked this over twice but if you see any glaring errors I missed in my sleep-deprived state, please tell me! Thank you!)


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry for the long wait! ouo;
> 
> Enjoy~

It took a long moment when Jean woke up for him to remember exactly where he was. His bed wasn’t nearly this comfortable, and the warm press of someone else on his side was new too. Even when he turned his head to see Marco curled into his side, it took another moment for him to remember but, when he finally did, a slow smile spread across his lips, a kind that rarely crossed his face.

He knew they had to get up early – Marco had told him that the previous day – but that didn’t mean he couldn’t spend just a few minutes more like this. Granted, his arm was tingling from lack of circulation from how Marco was lying on it, but Jean didn’t have the heart to disturb him. If he could wake up every day to see Marco’s sleeping face, he knew he’d die happy. Marco was cute and all when he was awake, but it just seemed to be magnified when he was sleeping. Slowly, Jean eased his arm out from under Marco’s body, wincing slightly as feeling started to come back, the tingling reaching his fingertips.

After another few minutes, he gently carded his fingers through Marco’s messy bed-head, smiling softly when Marco mumbled something unintelligible and shifted under the blankets, burrowing into the pillows and Jean’s shoulder even more, clearly not ready to wake up. Jean shook his shoulder slightly instead in his second attempt at rousing Marco, which actually worked. He watched as Marco slowly woke up, eyelids fluttering before the other teen finally opened his eyes, blinking sleepiness away before an easy smile slipped across his lips. Jean couldn’t help but smile back instantly. Seeing Marco that happy to see him as soon as he woke up would put a smile on anyone’s face.

“Hey, sleeping beauty,” Jean teased quietly, poking Marco’s cheek teasingly as he continued to wake up.

“Hi,” Marco mumbled back, half his face still pressed into the pillows, “I have an alarm clock you know,” he said, puffing out his cheeks at Jean’s poking in mock annoyance.

“I’m sure you do. I just thought you’d look really cute when you woke up,” Jean teased back, “And I was right of course.” Marco giggled at that, shoving Jean slightly before he reached out to pull him close into a squeeze.

“I’d kiss you, but I hate morning breath,” Marco said, resting their foreheads together, “We can Eskimo kiss instead though.”

“The hell is that?” Jean laughed, grinning at the earnest look on Marco’s face.

“Gosh, so out of the loop, aren’t you, Jean?” Marco tutted, “Like this, dummy.” He leaned forward a bit more, nuzzling their noses together, a tiny smile on his lips.

“That’s probably the dorkiest thing I’ve ever done,” Jean huffed back, his cheeks slightly pink, though he’d never admit to anyone that he thought what Marco just did was adorable.

“Oh please. We both know that’s a total lie, you dork,” Marco scoffed teasing, pulling away from Jean to sit up in bed, stretching his arms over his head, his shirt pulling up slightly to expose a thin line of his stomach, which Jean had to restrain himself from poking to see just how ticklish Marco was, “I’m going to go shower,” Marco yawned, throwing back the blankets and swinging his legs over the edge of the bed to stand, stretching again, “You can use the other bathroom down the hall. No one should be using it yet,” he offered, smiling sweetly before he grabbed some clothes from a drawer across the room and left into the bathroom.

Jean took another few minutes to get out of the warm bed. When he heard the shower turn on in the bathroom, he figured he should do the same. With a strained grunt, he forced himself out of bed, shivering slightly when the warm blankets were no longer over him. He quickly grabbed clothes from his duffel bag and rushed quietly down the hall to the other bathroom. He showered quickly, most of the time in the bathroom being taken up when he tried to figure out how exactly the knobs in the shower worked.

He found it funny that he finished getting dressed before Marco so, after calling to the other teen through the door that he was going downstairs, he did just that, walking into the kitchen to find Marco’s parents already awake.

“Oh! Good morning, Jean,” Marco’s mother – _Maria_ , he reminded himself – greeted him immediately, smiling brightly in a fashion almost identical to Marco. She was standing at the stove, flipping what Jean presumed were pancakes on a girdle. He could smell bacon too, and that only reminded him how hungry he suddenly was.

“Morning,” he greeted, still feeling rather awkward around Marco’s parents, “Do you uh- need any help with anything or…” he trailed off awkwardly, gazing around the room. Maria gave him another smile, laughing softly as she shook her head.

“No, no, that’s alright, Jean,” she laughed, “You’re our guest. And this is sort of a tradition. Pancakes for any morning Marco has a competition,” she explained sweetly, her voice almost taking on a singsong tone, which made Jean smile. It was obvious to him that Marco was very close to his mother, and he had only just met her. They both looked up when footsteps sounded from the stairs and Marco walked in a moment later. He smiled as soon as he saw Maria cooking, his eyes bright. Jean had to stop himself from laughing at the way Marco’s still damp hair was sticking up slightly. It looked like he had tried to dry it in a hurry to get downstairs, which was endearing in itself.

“Good morning!” he greeted, immediately going to get plates out of one of the cabinets. Feeling out of place, Jean quickly went over to help him, taking plates and utensils to put on the table.

“Did you two sleep well?” Maria asked from the stove, still mulling over the pancakes. Jean watched Marco’s cheeks turn red at that, and he felt his own heat up too.

“Uh… Y-yeah,” Marco stammered out quickly once he realized the time it took to answer was getting too long.

“And you Jean?’ Maria asked, looking over her shoulder, “The floor wasn’t too uncomfortable, was it?”

“What- uh… N-no,” Jean said quickly once he realized what she meant, “N-no It was fine. Marco uh- He made sure I was comfortable,” he said before coughing into his fist. Maria smiled at that, seemingly pleased with his answer, and turned back to the stove. Jean caught Marco’s eyes across the room and the freckled teen nodded towards the living room before he walked out of the kitchen, expecting Jean to follow.

“Th-that was um… S-sorry that was- really awkward,” Marco mumbled as soon as they were alone in the living room, “I-I mean… I don’t _think_ she would mind if she knew we just shared my bed…” Jean could tell Marco was incredibly flustered at that moment and, though he thought it was cute, he reached forward to take Marco’s hands in his own.

“Hey… It’s okay,” he murmured, squeezing Marco’s fingers, “It’s fine, it’s perfectly fine. Really. I- I um…” he started, looking down at the ground, “Okay, don’t be mad but, I haven’t even told my mom yet about… About you- I mean- she _knows_ about you but not about _us_ ,” he trailed off, his cheeks burning. Marco was quietly for a long moment, and Jean was afraid to look up, not wanting to even see what Marco looked like if he was angry.

“That’s okay, Jean,” he finally said quietly, which let Jean finally look up to be greeted with warm, brown eyes and an understanding smile, “Really. It’s fine. You don’t have to tell anyone if you don’t want to. Not telling anyone and hiding are different things you know. If no one asks, you don’t have to tell anyone,” he said happily, his smile growing wider. Hearing Marco say that made Jean relax, but then he realized he knew that on his own. Of course he knew all that, but just hearing it from Marco made it ten times better.

He smiled then, nodding slightly, “Yeah, I know,” he responded lamely, “Can I kiss you yet? No more morning breath,” he grinned, moving slightly closer. Marco rolled his eyes and giggled quietly, nodding as he leaned forward as well.

“I suppose,” he sighed dramatically, laughing again before he pressed their lips together, immediately sighing at the feeling. It made Jean’s heart speed up to think that just kissing was so satisfying to Marco, that something so simple could make the other teen happy, and he always wanted Marco to be happy.

“Boys! Breakfast is ready!” The call from the kitchen had them both pulling away quickly to stammer out responses to Marco’s mother. A blush was back on Marco’s cheeks and he looked towards the kitchen.

“We should go… My mom makes really good pancakes,” he said with a smile, reaching for Jean’s hand to take. Jean felt kind of awkward walking into the kitchen hand-in-hand with Marco, but when no one questioned it, or even really noticed, he relaxed a bit, continuously telling himself that it was fine, he was fine.

Marco wasn’t lying when he said his mother made good pancakes. In fact, good was an understatement. Jean’s initial four pancakes were gone before Marco was half done with his, but he waited for someone else to get seconds first so he didn’t look like a glutton or anything.

After breakfast, Marco’s entire family went through a well-rehearsed routine of getting everything they needed for Marco’s competition. Marco’s mother was making sure there was memory in her camera to videotape even though the event was taped already. Marco’s brothers were arguing over which movie they wanted to watch in the car or what games they were going to play on the ride. Marco was trying to get his stuff ready while also trying to convince his sister that, no, the dogs couldn’t come with them. While he was doing that, Jean offered to bring his bag out to the car, which he could tell Marco was thankful for.

Finally, they all piled into the car and left the house with Jean sitting next to Marco and the three younger kids in the additional seats behind them, continuing the argument of which movie they wanted to watch for a few more minutes before they quieted down. The rest of the ride was quiet. Marco’s parents had the radio on low volume as they talked over it between themselves. Marco was listening to his mp3, which Jean later discovered halfway through the ride that he was just listening to the two songs from his routines over and over to make sure he knew them. Jean let him listen the duration of the ride, idly playing random games on his phone until they arrived at the rink.

Marco’s family walked in the front entrance to get their seats while Jean accompanied Marco to the back where the skaters got ready. Jean had asked about ten times already of that was okay. Marco only laughed and told him over and over that, yes, it was fine.

When they walked into the area where the skaters got ready, Jean immediately noticed a change in Marco. His happy demeanor disappeared and instead he looked kind of pale, scared even. He’d never seen Marco like that before; he never even thought that Marco _could_ look like that. Before he could ask Marco if he was alright, Levi walked in and towards them, his typical angry look on his face, which only seemed to get worse when he was around Jean. Marco had told him that Levi was strict and all that, but Jean was starting to think the shorter man had some sort of vendetta against him.

“ _You’re_ here then?” Levi asked, his crude question aimed towards Jean. Jean opened his mouth to answer but ended up only nodding, which Levi only saw for a second before he turned his attention to Marco, “Go get ready,” he said, nodding towards the back. Marco nodded quietly and stood, still holding onto Jean’s hand. Levi raised an eyebrow at their hands and Marco gave him a pleading look in response, “Fine. You can take him with you,” Levi scoffed, rolling his eyes. Marco smiled softly and tugged Jean’s hand slightly, walking to another room with him to get changed.

Before he could go into a room to change, Jean squeezed Marco’s hand, pulling him close, “Are you okay?” he asked softly, “You just seem… off,” he said slowly, not knowing how to describe the expression on Marco’s face.

“I’m fine,” Marco responded gently, a smile coming back to his face, “Just… Just nervous… I’m always nervous…No matter how long I’ve done this, or how good I’ve done in the past. I don’t know why,” he sighed, his smile fading as he looked down at his shoes.

“Hey, hey, look at me,” Jean said, surprised at himself and how gentle his own voice sounded, “You’ll do amazing, Marco. You’re so good, and you’ll be great now, okay?” He couldn’t believe he was actually kind of comforting and reassuring someone, even if that someone was Marco. Jean was never good at comforting anyone, or apologizing, or making sure other people were okay. He considered himself a social loser in that sense, which is he basically had the same friends from kindergarten. His mother always said he was friendlier when he was a toddler.

Marco gave him a little smile again before he leaned forward, wrapping his arms around Jean in a warm hug, “Thank you, Jean,” he whispered, his voice muffled slightly from being pressed into Jean’s coat. Jean wrapped his arms around Marco’s back in return, holding the taller boy to him.

“No problem, sweetheart,” he said back, a smile playing on his lips, “Now go get ready before Levi rips me a new one for stalling you.” Marco laughed at that pulling away with a smile and a nod.

Jean words came true after a few more minutes and Levi practically kicked him out of the area, even though Marco was already changing. The short man grumbled something about Jean being a “useless distraction,” which would’ve stung a bit more if Jean actually cared about what the angry man thought.

By the time Jean found Marco’s family in the stands, it had taken him a good ten minutes considering the place was about three times the rink back home.

“Jean! I saved you a seat!” Lisa chirped happily, patting the seat next her how own, giving Jean a semi-toothless grin.

“No she didn’t,” Wes huffed, “We have tickets,” he scoffed, rolling his eyes.

“Don’t be mean to Lisa, dear,” Marco’s mother chided mildly from her seat next to Marco’s father. The awkwardness that Jean felt around Marco’s family had started to subside, which he was grateful for considering he and Marco would hopefully be spending a lot of time together in the future.

After another thirty minutes or so of watching Marco’s brothers play on their handhelds, the show finally started. Lisa had animatedly explained to him that the youngest competitors are usually ranked lowest so the first few groups would be of younger kids. Jean could tell right away how much better Marco was than them, and it only made him more eager to see Marco skate.

By the third group of skaters, Jean was honestly feeling bored out of his mind. Seeing Marco skate was one thing, but seeing so many people one after another was exhausting. He was about to get up to go wander around and find a snack or something when Marco’s name was called as he started onto the ice. Jean sat back in his seat quickly, his entire attention focused on the ice and Marco warmed up, skating easily around the rink, getting himself ready for his first performance. Jean did know why, but his heart was pounding against his rib cage. He figured it was anticipation or nervousness on Marco’s part. Either way, he just wanted to see Marco skate after waiting for so long.

After conversing with Levi on the side and taking a last drink of water, Marco skated to the middle of the rink, assuming position before the music started. It was a different song from before when Jean had seen Marco practicing, but the other teen seemed to know it just as well as the other one and immediately started skating. Marco seemed almost more breathtaking to watch when it was in a competition setting like this, his costume matching the type of music and the execution by which he made his jumps and spins. Jean watched wide-eyed, his gaze following every movement of Marco’s form on the ice, the way his legs moved with perfect fluidity and the way he moved his arms to keep his balance. Other than a tiny stumble, which Jean wasn’t sure everyone who hadn’t been watching as closely as he had been noticed, Marco was perfect, and when he finished the crowd, including Marco’s family applauded.

“Hey, Jean,” Lisa said, tugging on Jean’s sleeve as he was clapping, “Can you throw this on the ice for me?” she asked, giving him a signature, gap-toothed grin and holding out a bouquet of flowers.

“What? Oh... Uh, sure,” Jean stammered, taking a moment to comprehend what was even being asked of him as his brain attempted to recover from watching Marco skate. As he tossed the flowers to the ice, all he could think was that he wanted more. He wanted to see Marco skate more, and he was disappointed when the performance was over.

He watched Marco skate over and grab the flowers off the ice, looking up to where Jean and his family were sitting. He gave them a bright smile that made Jean’s heartbeat pick up again before he turned and skated over to the boards were Levi opened the gate to let him in.

Jean didn’t pay much attention to the scores, only understanding that they were higher than any of the other competitors who had gone yet, and he didn’t spend much time watching the skaters start the longer of the two programs, instead getting up to go find the snack he wanted. He ended up having to get food for Marco’s siblings too, which he didn’t mind but he spent all his time waiting in lines at concession stands watching the screens out of the corner of his eye to make sure Marco wasn’t going on earlier or anything. He figured he should probably read up on how figure skating competitions worked because, frankly, he figured he looked completely nervous or paranoid constantly whipping his head to the side at the sound of Marco’s name.

He got back in time though, nearly spilling drinks on himself in the process. Marco’s mother tried to pay him back for the food he had bought, but he declined, telling her repeatedly that is was fine. She really was basically a carbon copy of Marco at times.

Marco’s second time on the ice was as mesmerizing as the first, and Jean liked it even more considering the performance was twice as long. He watched with the same rapt attention as before, his soft pretzel forgotten in his hand as he following Marco’s every move. Everything Marco did on the ice looked so natural, and Jean vaguely wondered if that was what he looked like to other people when he played hockey. If that were the case, he’d surely have no problem getting scouted out of high school.

From Jean’s perspective, Marco was perfect, though he realized by now that judges saw things he didn’t. Nevertheless, Marco’s scores easily put him in first place and, after the final few skaters performed, he was still in the same position.

“Marco _always_ wins,” Lisa explained to him animatedly after they had started to leave their seats to go find Marco, “He’s the bestest skater in the entire world! He’s going to win the world championships and the Ol- Oly _eeem_ plics,” she said, narrowing her eyes as she struggled on the world.

“The Olympics?” Jean guessed, giving her a small smile.

“Yep! Those! He’s gonna get a gold medal and then everyone is gonna know how he’s the greatest ever!” she said gleefully, throwing her arms up in the air for emphasis. Jean laughed at that, grinning down at her.

“Well, I have no doubt that your brother will do just that, okay, kiddo?” Lisa grinned brightly up at him at that and it almost made Jean wish he had some sort of little sibling. He always liked little kids, but according to his mom she had her hands full with him when he was a baby, which he vehemently denied every time.

He walked into the back rooms alone to find Marco after the freckled teen’s family said they’d be waiting outside. Initially, he spotted Levi, but he didn’t see Marco anywhere.

“Hey,” Levi said curtly, coming up to him when Jean decided to wait towards the back.

“Oh... Uh, hey, Levi,” Jean said quickly, not expecting the shorter man to come and even talk to him.

“What’d you say to him?” Levi asked, arms crossed over his chest, “From before, what did you say?” he asked again when Jean responded with only a confused look.

“Nothing really I mean- just told him good luck and stuff?” Jean shrugged, trailing off with the look of confusion still evident. He didn’t think what he had said to Marco had been all that special, but now that he thought about it, the other teen seemed more grateful than he should have, “Why do you ask?”

“Because that’s the best he’s managed to perform all year,” Levi sighed, “I’ve known Marco since he was seven years old, and every year he just gets more and more nervous. Confidence should go through the fucking roof when you have his talent at that age, but he keeps slumping and getting worse, and he won’t tell me shit about anything,” he gritted out before he sighed heavily again, “It’s frustrating. I see a lot of talent in him, which is why I don’t want idiots like you messing up his life, and yet he’s not performing to the level he should be...”

“Maybe he’s not ready?” Jean asked out with a lift of his shoulder.

“Please,” Levi scoffed, “Like I said, I’ve know him for a decade. I think... I think it’s _you_ ,” he said slowly, raising an eyebrow as he looked up at Jean, his glare as piercing as ever, “Ever since you came along and started doing... whatever is it that you two do together, he’s been different, and today- today was his best competition since last year. He doesn’t even _need_ to do this competition. I sign him up because I know he needs the confidence boost more than ever right now.” He was quiet, and Jean really didn’t know what to say. Did Levi really think that his presence made that much of a difference in Marco’s life? They had only met about a month ago, and up until this point Jean had always thought that Marco had made his life better rather than vice versa.

“Well, whatever the case. Keep doing whatever the hell you’re doing then,” Levi said, “It’s working.” With that, he left the room, slinging his bag over his shoulder as he walked out.

It only took another minute or two for Marco to come out, his bags with him and a bright look in his eyes that only magnified when he saw Jean.

“Jean!” he asked happily walking over to him and wrapping him into a one-armed hug with the hand that wasn’t holding a bag.

“Hey! Hey,” Jean laughed, easing one of the bags off Marco’s arm and setting on the ground, “You’re eager,” he teased, reaching up to ruffle Marco’s hair before he wrapped his arms around him too, “Congratulations. You were... so wonderful to watch,” he murmured. Marco seemed to glow at that, the warm brown color of his eyes brimming with happiness.

“Thanks, Jean,” he said quietly, suddenly looking bashful, “I’m glad you were here to watch.” He smiled down at Jean for a long moment before Jean leaned up for a chaste kiss, simply pressing their lips together at the sudden craving for the feeling.

“C’mon,” Jean said quietly when he pulled away, giving Marco a squeeze before he unwound his arms and reached for one of Marco’s bags, “Your family is waiting.” Marco blinked, seemingly forgetting that anyone was there aside from Jean. With a nod and another smile, he hiked his other bag up his shoulder before he reached for Jean’s hand, easily twining their fingers together in a loose hold that he quickly tightened one Jean squeezed his palm in return, and they walked out hand-in-hand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am really sorry for the long wait! School has kept me so busy and I thought I'd have more time to write but I didn't ;n;
> 
> I hope you all enjoyed this chapter despite the wait! Please tell me if you see any typos or anything as i only checked it over a few times this time ^^;
> 
> Comments and kudos are appreciated greatly as always!


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow okay. Hi!
> 
> It's been a while, like many, many months, which makes me feel really, really bad ono; Anyway, I guess I owe the handful of people still waiting for this to update an apology and an explanation. Due to personal/familial problems as well as school, I basically had to stop writing since I had no time. On top of that, I got completely turned off to all things SNK except JeanMarco, Reibert and Eruri (but even a little bit turned off to Eruri honestly) due to the happenings in the manga and the overall direction of the story. Reiner, Bertholdt, Jean, and Marco are my favorite characters and, well, Marco's dead, Reiner and Bertholdt were MIA, and poor Jean was trying to keep shit together while they started torturing people? Yeah, not my kind of rodeo.
> 
> I finally started writing every day again a few months ago, except I started using present tense instead of past tense so once I started working on this chapter I had to switch back for the sake of continuity and it was tough to write these 3000+ words. 
> 
> BUT ENOUGH OF THAT. Hello, I am back! And I am dedicated to finishing this story for those of you still wanting an ending! I have a few more chapters to plan out I think, but we'll see what happens I guess! It'll be a surprise for all of us ouo;
> 
> Please enjoy and, again, I apologize for the months of waiting.

Another week passed after Marco’s competition where Jean didn’t even get a chance to see Marco. Hockey practice was relentless and went on late, and because of that most of Marco’s practices were in the morning. Still, they texted all the time. They texted in the morning, during school, on weekends, at night, pretty much every waking minute. Jean knew he was hooked, craving Marco’s presence at every minute of his pathetic, Marco-addicted life.

He was fine with being pathetic if it meant that he was head-over-heals for Marco. Marco grew more perfect every day. He sent Jean photos of his tea or his lunch. Sometimes he sent photos he had caught of Bertholdt making stupid faces when he hadn’t realized. Those made Jean laugh, but he still wanted to laugh with Marco all the time rather than at his photos.

He gets to see Marco again after that week that seemed like infinity. Marco surprised him by showing up in the arcade at the rink when Jean was heading out after practice.

They ended up staying in the arcade until the rink closed playing the old video games there, drinking extremely cheap hot chocolate that came out of those packets.

At least they were the ones with the mini marshmallows in them.

At least Marco was there, and Jean knew that as long as Marco was there, the hot chocolate would taste like it cost five hundred dollars.

“So,” he breathed out over his third cup of cocoa, completely out of quarters for the games and sitting at one of the metal tables nearby, one hand halfway extended across the table to hold Marco’s hand, “Are you busy tomorrow?”

“Mm,” Marco hummed, finishing his hot chocolate and setting the Styrofoam cup down on the table, “I am. Why?”

“I just-“

“I’m supposed to be going to this hockey game, you know?” Marco said before Jean can really get into sulking, his brown eyes twinkling in a knowing way, “At this rink. And oh my God, Jean, number sixteen is my favorite player. He’s just so dreamy and so skilled with the puck,” he sighed before he erupts into a series of giggles, “Of course I’m coming to your hockey game, silly,” he cooed. Jean feels himself relax, a smile slipping onto his lips as he squeezes Marco’s hand. For a minute, Marco had sent disappointment through his body, but he should’ve known the little shit was lying. He’d told Marco about the game weeks ago after all.

“Jerk,” Jean huffed into the rest of his cocoa, looking away, “I thought for a minute you were actually turning me down. As if you could. I mean, when the dreamy number sixteen is asking you out, you can’t say no. Have you seen that guy? He’s a stud.”

“You’re ridiculous,” Marco laughed, “I don’t think I’m going to live that comment down now.”

“Nope. Definitely not. But it’s the truth anyway.”

* * *

 

The Titans are a bunch of big thugs from the other side of the state and three-time high school champions in the past four years. Jean can tell at least three of them were probably on steroids and a few other were maybe not even in high school. Some schools flunked their students so they could keep playing, and some of the guys had some kind of college kid facial hair going on.

Whatever. The bigger they are the harder they fall, right?

“We’re basically the best team in the state. Let’s be real,” Reiner said while they were getting ready in the locker rooms, “Bunch of fat fucks like those guys don’t have a chance, right boys?” Reiner was always good at getting energy up and, as usual, after he spoke, the other guys cheered loudly.

This will be the toughest game this year yet, but Jean knows to keep a level head as he laced up his skates. They were faster than a bunch of overweight guys trying to call themselves hockey players… At least that was what Coach Smith said in his pep talk before they all filed out of the locker room.

“Hey, Jean,” Reiner grinned as he nudges Jean in the arm while walking from the locker rooms to the ice, “Is someone special at this game?” His grin was so aggravating because Reiner was like a nice-guy-asshole at the same time kind of guy, but he wasn’t wrong. Jean had some sort of silly, love-struck pride welling inside him, as they got closer to the ice. There was usually a pretty big crowd at the game but Jean knew he’d find Marco’s face in the audience eventually.

Jean’s line was the first on the ice. Jaeger lost the puck first thing in the faceoff. Reiner got driven in the boards by some guy who manages to be even larger than him. Jean had the puck for maybe three seconds, not even enough time to take a shot on goal before it’s stolen away from him.

When he switched with someone else from the bench, they were losing one to nothing and Jean was pissed. In his opinion, Jaeger sucked, and the entire defense but Reiner and Bertholdt sucked. Coach Smith looked calm as usual, but Jean could see the pulsating vein in his neck, and the way his fists were clenched, and he knows he is pissed too.

He wanted Marco to come watch him play, not come watch him get his ass kicked.

With that in mind, the next time he got on the ice, he played as hard as he could, as dirty as he could without being caught by the refs for a penalty. The other team was doing the same thing so why the hell not?

He tripped someone from the other team without the ref seeing, giving the guy a smirk before he stole the puck away and starts down the ice towards the goal. Jaeger was next to him, but there’s no fucking way he’s relinquishing the chance to score to that asshole, especially not in front of Marco.

He has to skate around the damn net three times to get a good shot, but he finally does and he hears the fans there erupt into cheering as he ties the game. Jaeger goes to give him a hive five and he actually allows him because why the fuck not. As long as he’s the one who scored, as long as Marco saw him, that was all that mattered.

After the first period, they were losing two to one, which isn’t too bad as far as Jean is concerned, but not good enough, and certainly not good enough if Marco was there watching him.

He checked his phone when he got back to the locker room, smiling at a text from Marco on the screen.

 

**From: Marco**

_Great job so far! <3_

**To: Marco**

_i dedicated my goal to my super cute boyfriend ofc_

 

He put his phone away after that, focusing on Coach Smith’s plan for the second period and getting rehydrated. Most of the team was grumbling, generally pissed about not winning during the first intermission, but at least everyone was fired up.

When the second period started, Jean felt some different when he got on the ice, some sort of animosity buzzing in the air that wasn’t there before. He lined up with a Titan for the faceoff, feeling the guy glaring at him.

“You wanna go, asshole?” he hissed through his teeth, meeting the guy’s gaze with a glare of his own.

“Fuck off,” the other player snarled as the referee dropped the puck. Jean brought his stick down on the ice with a sharp sound, slapping the puck behind him towards Eren to start the play off right for once.

He spun around on the ice, skating us alongside Eren towards the goal, Reiner a little bit behind him in the process of blocking on of the opposing players.

In a blur, someone twice his size barreled into him, slamming him against the glass. He felt his body hit the boards and then crumple to the ice, disoriented from his head slamming the glass.

“ _Shit_ ,” he gasped, trying to push himself up onto his feet. Someone collided with his side, sending his helmet off and his head hitting the ice.

He vaguely heard the sound of a whistle being blowing repeatedly.

He saw blurry images of Reiner punching someone, and then of Reiner being pulled off of the guy by three referees.

He could feel something liquid on skin before red flooded his left eye. Okay then, that was definitely blood.

The next moments were even blurrier than before.

Hands on him, turning him onto his back on the ice.

A stretcher placed on the ice, people trying to talk to him, trying to get him to answer.

Someone was shining an annoying penlight in his eyes.

His body hurt.

His head hurt.

The last thing he thought of before he passed out was Marco.

_Marco must be scared._

* * *

 

Jean woke up to the sight of white ceiling tiles and weirdly colored, light-blue walls. The room smelled like anti-septic- anti-septic _something_ anyway.

His head felt fuzzy, like every thought was clouded and every time he blinked the world got slower.

“Jean!”

He heard his name and blinked again, groaning softly. He knew the voice. Of course he knew that voice. That was- that was Marco’s voice.

He sounded worried.

And scared.

And sad.

Marco shouldn’t sound like that. Why did Marco Sound like that?

“Mm… Marco?” he mumbled out, turning his head just slightly towards the voice only for his entire head to throb.

“Jean- y-yeah, it’s okay. I’m here. Your mom’s here too. You’re okay,” Marco said quickly and Jean could finally see him, sitting in a chair at his bedside, his eyebrows turned up in a helpless, worried look and his bottom lip between his teeth.

“What happened?” Jean asked out, blinking again, which helped to clear his vision up a little bit.

“You got hit really hard, and you hit your head on the ice,” Marco said in that nice, gentle way of his. Jean realized he must be on drugs because Marco’s voice sounds prettier than usual.

Yeah, Marco’s voice always sounds pretty.

“Did I- fuck, what’s the word… The- that thing when you hit your head and- and then- and then you… Fuck if I know. Starts with a ‘k’ or something? Like a- a ‘kuh’ sound and then-“

“A _concussion_ , Jean, yes,” Marco sighed and Jean felt a warm heat envelope his hand. Marco’s hand, holding his hand. Nice. “You had some stitches, and the doctors want to keep you here overnight to make sure you’re okay.”

“Like a sleepover?”

“No, Jean. Not like a sleepover.” He could hear some laughter coming back to Marco’s voice at whatever he said. He wondered if it was funny.

“Am I high?” He asked out, “Because I’ve never done, like, weed and shit so- am I? High? I’m high, aren’t I?”

“You’re on pain medication,” Marco deadpanned, though even through his hazy vision, Jean can see some light coming back to his eyes.

“Sweet,” Jean drawled out, grinning over at Marco who only rolled his eyes.

The door opened to the room then and Jean definitely made out his mother standing there, which was good. Moms are good. His mom is good.

But then he remembered Marco plus his mom plus him was a combination not yet experienced. He figured he should introduce them, maybe even let his mom know that he was a flaming homosexual and not into boobs or anything.

“Mom, Marco’s a boy,” was the first that left his mouth. Wait, that didn’t sound right even to him, “And he’s my friend and- when you put ‘boy’ and ‘friend’ together- y’know? And he’s really cute and-“

“Alright, Jean, that’s enough,” his mother said quickly to avoid further embarrassment for all of them, though Jean was busy trying to figure out why Marco’s cheeks were suddenly bright pink, “I’ve already met Marco. He’s a very nice boy. I can’t believe you haven’t had him over yet,” she admonished, though her voice was still light with amusement

“He’s super nice,” Jean hummed happily, letting his head loll back onto the pillows with a happy sigh.

That went well, he figured.

He didn’t remember falling asleep again, but when Jean woke up again in the morning, still in the hospital, he was relieved to find that the drugs had worn off a bit and he could actually think clearly. He pushed himself up in the bed, wincing a bit when his head ached. He reached up and found gauze taped to his forehead. Right, the game, stitches, concussion.

Did they even win? He hoped they did. No way he was going to go down on the ice and have his team not avenge him.

The door opened then and Jean perked up when Marco walked into the room, holding two cups of something that Jean recognized by the smell as hot chocolate when Marco came closer.

“Hey Jean,” Marco said gently, setting the cups down and leaning down to kiss Jean’s head where the bandages aren’t so to not disturb them, “Sleep well?”

“Yeah, I guess,” Jean smiled, feeling better now that Marco was there, “Did you stay here all night?”

“Mm, no,” Marco sighed as he sat down in the chair besides Jean’s bed, “I had practice early so I left once you fell asleep.” He reached out, taking Jean’s hand in his own once again. Jean felt himself smile and he laced his fingers with Marco’s too.

“Did we win the game?” Marco immediately looked forlorn at that and he ducked his head, which Jean knew probably wasn’t a good sign.

“Well, the guy who hit you got thrown out of the game, and I think his school is suspending him from the rest of the season. Reiner got a few good punches in before that though,” he giggled, “But um… Your team lost six to one,” he mumbled out, trailing off.

Shit. Six to one? They couldn’t even get up the skill to score even one more goal after Jean got carted off? Pathetic.

“Oh well,” Jean sighed, letting his head fall back into the pillows, “Guess I won’t be playing for a while then…” He was bummed to say the least. Concussions were messy and he had stitches along with it too. He’d be off the ice for a while, probably a month at least.

What was he supposed to focus on without hock-

 _Oh_.

 _Marco_. Now that he didn’t have practice almost every day, he could focus on _Marco_. Suddenly, this didn’t seem all that bad and he gave Marco a grin, squeezing his hand.

“At least we have a lot more time to spend together now,” he said in a sing-song voice, wiggling his eyebrows at Marco and laughing when the other teen blushed.

“I um… Already thought of that,” Marco mumbled out, “And I felt really bad because I know how much you love hockey, but if you thought the same thing then…”

“Hey, nothing to feel bad about,” Jean huffed softly, tugging Marco’s hand lightly, “I love spending time with you. Now we can go on dates and I can come watch you skate and we don’t have to miss each other, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Marco whispered, smiling and coming closer to Jean’s side, “But I was still worried. You were- _bleeding_ on the ice, Jean. It was really scary and you weren’t moving and I- I thought that-“

“Hey, hey, shh,” Jean quickly soothed Marco, reaching to wrap his free arm around his boyfriend’s waist, “I’m fine. I’m really fine, see? I’ll be okay soon enough. No permanent damage or anything. In fact, now I’ll have a cool scar to show for it!” He laughed and leaned forward, pressing a kiss to Marco’s pouting lips, “Cheer up, sweetheart. We’re good.”

“Okay… We’re good,” Marco smiled and leaned in to kiss Jean back.

Perfect.

* * *

 

It turned out that being concussed that badly sucked. Jean figured he was downing four doses of Tylenol a day to deal with the annoying headaches that came along with it. That only motivated him to get better faster, get back on the ice, get back to the game, and fucking win for once.

The team had dropped two games out of three since he had gotten hurt and it was infuriating.

At least he had Marco though. Marco took his mind off of his team’s shitty performance. He went to Marco’s practices when they weren’t at four in the freaking morning and often accompanied him home, or took Marco to his own home.

His mom loved Marco. When Marco wasn’t over, she constantly gushed about how cute he was, and then wondered how her son had managed to get such a sweet young man t be his boyfriend. Jean just laughed her comments off, rolling his eyes because he really couldn’t argue. Marco was cute and adorable and sweet, and Jean wasn’t, but that didn’t matter because he knew Marco said the same thing about him no matter how red it made Jean’s cheeks.

He started spending most afternoons after school at Marco’s house when his parents and siblings aren’t home, watching movies and playing video games. Marco was getting a little better at video games, but he still wasn’t very good, not that Jean minded since when Marco was frustrated with the game he usually gave up in favor of kissing Jean.

Marco kissed _so well_ too.

Which was why they spent nearly every afternoon kissing in Marco’s bed at some point.

Marco was under him in the bed, his arms wrapped around Jean’s back as they kissed slowly, which Jean was fine with. Really. He was fine but-

“Hey, Marco,” he whispered, pulling away just a bit, “Open your mouth, okay? Just trust me. It’ll feel good.” Marco blinked at him, his brown eyes wide and so bewildered by Jean’s request. Jean finally figured out at that moment what the term “doe-eyes” meant, and it was _really_ cute.

Marco complied though, parting his lips a bit before Jean slotted their lips back together, slowly sliding his tongue between Marco’s lips and into his mouth. He heard Marco gasp lightly, the other boy’s fingers twisting into his shirt.

Marco’s tongue slid against his slowly, completely unsure of every action, but Jean didn’t care because Marco felt and tasted perfect.

“Mm...” Marco’s soft moan reached his ears and Jean pulled back quickly, eyes wide.

“I- s-sorry, did I-“

“N-no!” Marco said quickly, pulling Jean back down flush against his chest, “No, I- it felt good. It was good,” he whispered, his cheeks flushed and lips pink from the kissing, “Can we- can we maybe- again?” Jean let a smile slip over his lips so easily and he nodded, leaning in again to press his lips to Marco’s sliding his tongue back into Marco’s mouth.

Hesitantly, Marco’s tongue met his own and Jean shivered, reaching up with one hand to cup Marco’s cheek. His tongue moved against Marco’s slowly, getting a feel for how warm and wet Marco’s mouth was. He tasted sweet, like mint and chocolate, and Jean wanted to taste more.

Marco’s grip on his shirt loosened slowly as they fell into slowly, deep kisses, parting to breathe before starting up again. It was clumsy and embarrassing, but sweet and obviously heartfelt at the same time.

Jean wouldn’t change it for the world. He wanted every kiss with Marco to feel like these did. He wanted Marco to always be new, to always be sweet and shy and open to accepting him, and if their exchanged kisses were anything to go by, then Jean knew his wish would be true.

And he was happy.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments, questions, concerns, angry messages for being gone so long? I'm interested in hearing all of them! Fire away! :U
> 
> P.S. Cheering on the Pats (aka the greatest football team on Earth) in the greatest super bowl I've ever seen is very tiring so I didn't really do much editing. I'll go over it tomorrow, I promise =w=


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